A Practical Run

CHAPTER TWO

LAUREN’S POV

The golden doors of the elevator finally slid open, revealing a sprawling, ultra-modern penthouse wrapped in floor-to-ceiling glass that overlooked the glittering skyline of the city. I stepped out, my expensive heels sinking into a thick rug, but before I could take another step, a voice cut through the silence.

"You’re late."

I spun around. It was Silas. I knew him immediately, my stomach dropping at the sight of him. I had already seen him at the wedding, and I would never forget his cold, dead face; it was his face I had looked at when Silas shot at the priest, and I realized they were all the exact same kind of monster when he didn't even flinch.

"I came as fast as I could," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Silas stepped closer, closing the distance between us. His presence was totally suffocating. "Listen to me very carefully," he said. "You are not Lauren anymore. You are Serena. You better act right."

I crossed my arms, trying to project a toughness I didn't feel. "I know how to pretend."

"Do you?" he challenged, his eyes narrowing. "Because Julian isn't stupid. Any little mistake you make won't just ruin this arrangement. It will cost you your life. If he figures out you are a fake, he will end you."

"I am perfectly aware of the stakes," I shot back.

Silas didn't smile. He didn't react at all. "You need to walk like her. Talk like her. You need to drop whatever attitude you have right now. If you slip up, Julian will know. Do you understand me?"

He confronted me with such intense scrutiny about my role as Serena that I felt exposed. I hated him for talking to me like I was a liability, but I knew he was right. My life was on the line. I swallowed hard, forcing the lump of fear down my throat.

"I understand," I agreed quietly.

"Good." Silas turned on his heel. "The master bedroom is this way."

I followed him down a long, dimly lit corridor.

He stopped at a heavy oak door, opened it for me, and ushered me inside. As I walked past him to enter, my shoulder brushed hard against his chest. I swallowed again, my skin prickling from the sudden body contact, but Silas did not flinch. He just stared down at me with those empty, unreadable eyes.

He closed the door behind me. The heavy click of the lock echoed in the quiet room.

I let out a long, shaky breath I didn't even know I had been holding. My legs felt like jelly. I took a moment to look around.

The master bedroom was a massive, dark, and intimidating space dominated by a heavy four-poster bed and thick velvet curtains. That was all I needed to see to know I didn't belong here. I walked straight past the bed and pushed open the frosted glass doors to the walk-in closet.

It was the size of my entire apartment. Racks of designer clothes lined the walls, but my eyes were immediately drawn to the glass display island in the center. I walked over and accessed all the jewelry boxes. Necklaces, diamond earrings, and heavy gold bracelets stared back at me. I picked up a delicate diamond tennis bracelet. This single piece of jewelry probably belonged to Serena and easily cost ten years of my salary as a poker dealer. I hated her for her pampered life. I hated my parents for putting me here. And most of all, I loathed Julian.

Then, I heard it.

A deep, rough voice sounded from the bedroom. Julian.

I jumped, nearly dropping the bracelet. Panic flooded my veins. I quickly smoothed down Serena’s designer dress, adjusted my hair, and forced my posture straight. I had to walk out there. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the closet.

Julian was standing near the massive windows, his broad back turned to me. He held a phone to his ear, deep in conversation.

I froze in my tracks. I swallowed hard, waiting in terror for the moment he would turn to me and acknowledge my presence. The seconds stretched on like hours. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought he might hear it.

Finally, he did.

He paused mid-sentence, the phone still pressed to his ear. A huge, dark frown creased his forehead as he turned and his sharp eyes locked onto mine. He was terrifyingly handsome—tall, built like a lethal predator, with messy dark hair and a sharp jawline that looked like it was cut from stone. But his dark eyes held absolutely no warmth, only a burning, violent intensity.

Still on the call, he began to walk up to me.

With every slow, deliberate step he took, my fake confidence crumbled. By the time he was standing right in front of me, I was shaking like a leaf. I couldn't help it.

He didn't say a word to me. He just leaned in incredibly close. His nose brushed against the shell of my ear, and he actively sniffed me.

I gasped quietly, my entire body tensing. He smelled like expensive cologne, dark whiskey, and danger.

"Make sure it's done by morning," Julian said into the phone, his deep voice vibrating against my neck.

As he spoke, he raised his free hand. His large, rough fingers gently traced the line of my jaw, moving down to caress my neck. His touch was confusing. It was surprisingly soft, sending a massive jolt of stupid spark straight down my spine. I hated how my traitorous body reacted to him. I loathed this man with everything in me, yet my skin practically burned under his fingertips.

"Yes. Call me when it's done," he finished.

Suddenly, without any warning, his hand clamped down.

Julian grabbed my neck, his long fingers wrapping entirely around my throat. He squeezed, hard and fast, violently choking and strangling me. He lifted me slightly, cutting off my air supply completely.

My eyes widened in pure horror. Panic exploded in my chest. I grabbed his thick wrist with both of my hands, struggling for my life. I kicked my legs wildly. I scratched at his skin, my nails digging into his arm, but he didn't even blink. His grip was like iron. My lungs burned, begging for air. I was going to die.

Just as my vision started to go dark, he finally let go.

I collapsed, landing hard on my hands and knees. I began coughing violently, gasping for large, greedy lungfuls of air. Tears streamed down my face as my throat throbbed in pure agony. I looked up at him through my tears, clutching my bruised neck.

Julian stood over me, looking completely unbothered. He looked down at me, a cruel, mocking darkness in his eyes.

"I was just practicing how I would kill you," he said coldly.

The words dripped with pure malice. But as I stared up at this arrogant monster, the fear inside me suddenly evaporated. It was entirely replaced by a fiery rage. A lifetime of being abused, the exhaustion of my miserable life, and the brutal reality of this moment all boiled over. I loathed him.

I scrambled to my feet. Julian just watched me, probably expecting me to run away or cry.

He didn't expect what happened next.

Before I even knew what I was doing, my hand was flying through the air. I put every ounce of my strength and every drop of my hatred into that single motion.

My palm landed straight across Julian’s face, his head flying sideways.

SMACK!

The slap was incredibly sharp, and it echoed loudly off the high walls of the master bedroom. My hand stung from the massive impact, but I stood my ground, my chest heaving, as I glared up at him.

Julian froze.