Chapter 3

Seamus’s wrist stilled under my grip for a moment. Then he leaned in, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper.

"Of course I remember," he murmured. "But some answers, Fiona, are meant to be unveiled on the wedding night."

Before I could utter another word, he stood up.

The possessive, intimate warmth from a second ago vanished instantly.

"Escort my bride home," he commanded the armed guards standing in the shadows, not bothering to look down at me again. "Do not let her linger. She needs her rest for tomorrow."

A fresh wave of creeping dread crawled up my spine as his men immediately stepped forward, essentially forcing me out the door.

The drive back was a blur of pure anxiety.

The second I stepped through the front doors, Bridget and Moira swarmed me like vultures, while Siobhan trailed anxiously behind them.

"Well?!" Bridget demanded, grabbing my arm. "Did you figure it out? Who is he looking for?"

I shook my head, my face pale.

Total chaos broke out. The countdown timer to our executions had practically hit zero; the wedding was tomorrow morning.

Bridget began pacing violently. "I still have contacts in the harbor. I can bribe a cargo ship captain to smuggle me to the West Coast tonight. If I leave now—"

"I know a black-market doctor!" Moira cried hysterically, pulling at her hair. "If I go under the knife tonight, I could change my face entirely! He’d never recognize me!"

Only Siobhan, our timid maid, stood frozen by the staircase. She looked at me, her hands trembling violently.

"I... I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here with you, Miss Fiona."

While the three of them spiraled into their desperate survival plans, the heavy reality of the mafia's reach settled over me. There was no hiding from Seamus O'Sullivan.

"Nobody is running," I announced, my voice cutting through their panic like glass. "We are not fleeing. Someone has to marry him, and it has to be me."

They stopped dead, staring at me as if I had completely lost my mind.

"Are you insane?!" Moira shrieked. "In my first life, he put a bullet right between my eyes at the altar!"

"He tied cement to my feet and threw me into the Atlantic!" Bridget yelled, her panic turning into rage.

"And he literally suffocated you to death on the bridal bed!" Moira added, shaking her hands at me. "You're just going back there to die!"

"If I don’t walk down that aisle tomorrow, Carmine will be back here in an hour to shoot every single one of us in the head!" I snapped back. "We don't have a choice!"

They flinched. The horrifying truth of my words paralyzed them.

"Then what exactly happened at the mansion?" Bridget whispered, her voice wavering. "What did you figure out?"

I looked at these three women. For years, we had fought tooth and nail in this house, but right now, our fates were chained together.

"Tomorrow, we do exactly what he wants," I instructed coldly. "You will all attend the wedding as normal. You play your parts and act like you know nothing."

Leaving them stunned, I picked up one of my dad's cigars from the mahogany box on the table, and lit it.

"When I went to see him just now," I said quietly, taking a slow drag, "he grabbed my right hand and kissed it."

"Wait… he touched your right hand?" Moira blinked, stunned for a second before her eyes flew wide.

Siobhan sucked in a sharp breath, covering her mouth in shock.

I raised my skirt and looked at the tattoo hidden there.

I couldn’t stop thinking about why he killed me in my past life after seeing my tattoo — and why he kissed my right hand.

Then a chilling thought struck me.