The Serpent's Heart

3 Years Earlier.

The day was perfect. The smell of roses, vanilla, and bubbling champagne filled the air, mingling with the music of the string sextet that bled into the atmosphere, creating a serene, romantic space I never thought I'd have.

Arthur Verlaine looked at me like I hung the moon, his blue eyes shining with love and a promise of forever as he spun me across the dance floor of our wedding reception. His hands were gentle, almost reverent, pulling me back against his lean frame draped in an expensive suit.

"You look perfect, Lottie," he murmured into my ear, his lips brushing my copper curls. They were styled in an elegant updo, my petite figure hugged by a pearlescent wedding dress that made me feel like everything my dreams—and my old life—never could provide. He pulled back just enough for his eyes to meet my hazel ones, a soft smile on his lips. "Any regrets yet?" he asked with a teasing note that made me giggle softly.

My arms wound around his neck lightly, and I shook my head with a smile. "None," I assured him. "Two years with you, and I'm finally Mrs. Charlotte Verlaine... I don't think I've ever been happier."

A bright, proud smile spread on his lips, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. "It's just the beginning," he promised, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against my cheek as the music of our first dance faded away.

"Come on, Mrs. Verlaine," he encouraged, taking my hand and leading me to the bar. He scanned the guests—mostly his friends, parents, and a few high-level executives who worked for him—giving them polite smiles as they congratulated us but gave us space.

It was a different world, one I'd been learning to navigate for the last two years. Yet, looking across the crowd, a pang of loneliness hit. I only recognized the few faces of the friends I'd made since being with him. My mother had died when I was younger, and the people I'd grown up with didn't exactly fit into the glitz and glamour of the world I lived in now. It was impossible to picture a pack of leather-clad, tattooed Vipers knocking back whiskey next to Arthur’s investors sipping Chablis.

You wanted this, I reminded myself. It’s better. Safer.

"We leave Dawn County for New York this weekend. Once we get back from our honeymoon, we'll start our new life—me a CEO and you my perfect little wife," he reminded me, an excited smile spreading on my lips at the thought. "Did you say goodbye to your dad?" he asked then, making my smile falter for a moment at the thought of Pops.

I took the glass of champagne Arthur handed me. "Um... not yet," I admitted quietly. "He had to leave after the ceremony, but he's coming back later. He had to deal with some... business." My lips twisted into a tight smile, and I covered it by taking a long sip of my drink. The bubbles popping against my tongue were a stark contrast to the whiskey and beer I used to drink.

"He's at the clubhouse, isn't he?" I didn't miss the disapproval in his voice, the edgings of disgust he tried to hide for my benefit.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah... new prospects and promotions."

Arthur rolled his eyes slightly. "It's your wedding day—you'd think he'd want to be here," he muttered, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink. His eyes settled on me then, his expression softening. He reached out to tuck a loose curl behind my ear, his thumb trailing across my cheek. “I’ll take care of you the way he should have.”

Arthur smiled, his fingers brushing against the heavy silver serpent necklace my father had slipped into my hand before the ceremony that now hung around my neck. Arthur's brow furrowed, his thumb catching on the metal. "We'll need to take that off later. It doesn't match the dress."

Present Day

Three years later, my fingers were white-knuckled around that same silver serpent.

I checked my phone again, seeing the wall of missed calls, the now-empty bank balance, and the countless aggressive text messages hovering in my notification hub.

Arthur - 09:42am: Bitch. Where the fuck are you?!

I pushed down the suffocating grip of fear, letting out an unsteady breath as I closed the texting app. I told myself not to read any more and rechecked that my location services were turned off on everything before shutting down the phone and tossing it back into the center console like a bad memory.

He can't find me, I reassured myself, swallowing hard against the dull ache of the bruise marring my back, masked only by adrenaline.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror of the sleek BMW Arthur had given me shortly after our wedding. My hazel eyes were rimmed red from tears, blown wide with panic, and shadowed by dark rings of exhaustion from the eight-hour drive I'd just made—mostly double-backing, second-guessing, and stalling over my next move. My copper curls were buried beneath a black hoodie. The long sleeves covered the bruises, the cuts from shattered glass, and the stark tan line where my engagement and wedding rings used to sit.

The man I'd married was long gone. The sweet, flower-buying, caring man who promised me forever was now someone I didn't recognize.

It didn't happen all at once. It was a slow chipping away until last night, when his fingers choked the air from my throat, dangling me over our second-story balcony because a steak was too gray. Looking down at the manicured courtyard, I realized the square life wasn't safe. It was just a prettier cage.

I'd taken a copy of the security footage, saved onto a hard drive in my bag. I'd unburied my hidden bank cards from before our marriage, having slowly topped them up with money I've received for the painting and art jobs I'd taken over the years—gigs Arthur never cared enough to ask about. It was a habit from another life.

I'd packed my bags the moment he left for work. I couldn't stop the security system from alerting him that I'd left the house, I couldn't stop him from draining our shared bank account the second he realized what I was doing, and I couldn't stop the pit of fear swelling in my gut.

And now, looking down at the glowing dashboard of the BMW, another wave of panic hit. The connected drive system. Arthur was a tech CEO; it wouldn't take him long to realize he could track the car itself. I had to ditch the vehicle, and soon.

I chewed on my lip until it felt raw, my fingers tight around the silver serpent at my throat. It was the Vipers' insignia, a reminder of the life I had before—the one I'd completely abandoned, the one I assumed I could never return to.

I had to forge my own path. I was a Kane—a name that meant warrior, and I intended to fight until my last breath. I’d be damned if I let Arthur be the reason I stopped.