2: The Day Everything Changed

Daphne's pov

I woke up screaming.

My hands flew to my throat, hunting for the knife wound that had ended me. I expected blood. I expected the burning, the taste of poison coating my tongue.

My fingers found smooth, warm skin.

I jerked upright, dragging in air like I'd forgotten how. Cream curtains. Fresh flowers on the dresser. A white wedding dress hanging beside the wardrobe, glowing in the morning light like it was waiting for someone.

A wedding dress?

I stumbled to the mirror and stared at the woman there. No blood on her lips. No bruises on her throat. I pressed my palm to the glass, then to my own cheek, as if one of us might be lying. She was twenty-five, exactly as I'd been on my last birthday before everything went wrong.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and checked the date. My thumb stayed on the screen long after the numbers had stopped changing.

It was my wedding day.

The day I'd married Edward Blackwood. The day I'd started the life that ended with him standing over me while I choked.

"No," I whispered. "No, this can't be happening."

I pressed a hand over my mouth. I could still see Emmeline rising from her sickbed, her hands suddenly steady. I could still feel that burning in my chest.

I remembered dying. So how was I here?

Someone knocked.

"Daphne, sweetheart? Are you awake?"

My father's voice.

I froze with one hand flat against the mirror, afraid that if I moved, the sound would vanish.

The door opened, and Ronald Alistair walked in wearing a charcoal suit, silver at his temples, the same small crease between his brows I used to tease him about.

"Why are you still in bed? Your wedding is only a few hours away."

"Daddy?" My voice cracked in the middle.

His smile faded. "What's wrong?"

I crossed the room in three steps and threw myself into his arms. He staggered, then held on.

"Daphne? Talk to me."

I pressed my ear against his chest, my fingers shaking against his jacket. His heart beat slow and steady, the same heart that would give out three months from now while I begged him not to leave.

"I missed you," I sobbed.

"I was only downstairs for breakfast." He rubbed my back. "You make it sound as though I've been away for years."

How could I tell him I'd watched him die? That I'd lived through a future where the world collapsed and the people I trusted destroyed everything I loved? I couldn't. I barely understood it myself.

"Are you having second thoughts?" he asked gently.

I went still.

Edward. The man I'd loved more than anyone. The man who had murdered me.

But what if it had all been a nightmare?

The thought crept in, small and tempting. Edward had comforted me when I cried. He'd held me when I was frightened. What if I'd mistaken wedding nerves for memory?

"I don't know," I admitted.

Ronald kissed my forehead. "Whatever you're feeling, you don't have to hide it from me."

Before I could answer, Gavin appeared in the doorway with Viola behind him.

"Is the bride planning to sleep through her own wedding?" my little brother teased.

"Gavin!" I wrapped him in my arms, then reeled our grandmother in too.

"What's gotten into you?" he protested. "Are you trying to break my ribs?"

I laughed through my tears. It came out hiccupped and wet, and none of them seemed to find it strange yet.

Viola patted my cheek. "Marriage is a choice, darling. Never enter it because you feel trapped by expectations."

"I know, Grandma."

I wanted to tell them everything. I wanted to promise I'd never let anything happen to them again. The warnings piled up in my throat until it ached, and I swallowed every one. They would think I'd lost my mind.

After they left, I sat on the edge of the bed with my phone in my lap and tried to be sensible.

My hand went to my collarbone. Nothing there. No pendant, no chain. My father wouldn't press it into my palm until his final week, and the empty skin felt like a point for the nightmare.

Then the screen lit up.

*Counting the minutes, my love. Everything will be perfect. See you at the altar. —E*

I read it three times. It was exactly what he would have sent. Warm, a little formal, with that tiny initial at the end he'd always signed with. The man who wrote it couldn't have been the man who held a knife to my throat.

Could he?

I made a list in my head, the way I did with budgets. Dreams didn't have this much detail. Dreams didn't leave the taste of blood at the back of my throat. But dreams didn't have to make sense, either. Perhaps my mind had stitched together every fear it owned, the apocalypse and the money and the betrayal, and handed it to me the night before I promised my life to someone.

If I walked away over a nightmare, I might regret it for the rest of my life. If I went through with it, I could still learn the truth.

At least, that was what I told myself.

By the time my bridesmaids arrived, shrieking and carrying a garment bag, I'd decided to go. I let them fuss with my hair and I smiled in the right places. I would look Edward in the eyes and see whether he was the monster I remembered.

The limousine glided through the city toward the church.

I sat beside my father with my hands knotted in my lap, my thumbnail picking at the lace on my wrist. Ronald chatted about the reception and the guest list, and I answered "mm" in all the wrong places.

Then the television screen inside the car caught my eye.

"Breaking news," the presenter said. "Authorities are investigating an incident in which three animals reportedly attacked and killed their owners. Officials have not determined what triggered the violence."

My head snapped up.

The screen cut to a military press conference. A man in uniform stood before a row of microphones.

General Adrik Hale.

I'd last seen him in an alley, kneeling, seconds before a gunshot ended his life. Now he stood in front of the cameras, calm and very much alive.

"We are investigating the incidents," Adrik said. "For now, citizens should remain calm and follow official safety instructions."

My nails dug into my palms.

I remembered this broadcast. On my first wedding day, I'd dismissed it as an isolated incident. I'd been too busy adjusting my dress and imagining my future with Edward to care about a few strange animal attacks. I hadn't known they were the beginning of the end.

The general's words were identical. Word for word.

This wasn't a dream.

I had come back to my wedding day, exactly one year before the apocalypse.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

I wanted to tell him to turn the car around and cancel everything. But how could I explain how I knew? Not yet.

I had one year. One year to protect my family, uncover the truth behind Project Chimera, and keep Edward from destroying my life again.

The limousine slowed outside the church. Guests crowded the entrance, smiling, and music drifted through the open doors like nothing in the world was wrong.

Ronald offered his arm. "Ready, sweetheart?"

I could still turn back. But I needed to know whether the man I remembered was waiting at that altar.

I took my father's arm.

Inside, Edward stood in his black suit. The moment he saw me, his face lit up with the same smile that used to make my heart race.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, and kissed my hand.

His lips were warm. My stomach turned, and I locked my knees so I wouldn't pull away.

The officiant talked about love and commitment. I barely heard him. Edward squeezed my fingers, his thumb moving over my knuckles in the old, slow circles, and I stared at the flowers until the urge to scream passed.

"Edward Blackwood, do you take Daphne Alistair to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Edward said.

The officiant turned to me.

"Daphne Alistair, do you take Edward Blackwood to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

I looked into Edward's eyes.

I remembered the poison. His confession. The necklace. The way he'd watched me die.

The tremor left my hands.

"No. I do not."