I
The zipper snagged on her dress. Her fingers shook as she tried again, breath hitching with every tick of the old hallway clock. Four twenty-three. She had seven hours before the ceremony. Seven hours before she’d be shoved into a gown she didn’t pick, married to a man whose name alone made people whisper in corners.
Madison yanked the zipper harder. It tore through. She didn’t care. The suitcase was half-packed, jeans, oversized sweaters, cheap perfume that reminded her of high school rebellion. No makeup. No heels. Just enough to look like someone else.
The house creaked. Old wood, old lies. She knew its sounds by heart. Her father’s footsteps were slow, deliberate. Her mother’s were too soft, like guilt trying to tiptoe. But this? This was the house holding its breath.
She wasn’t supposed to leave.
The engagement had been arranged before she ever met him. Ivan Callahan. The name sat like a bullet in her mouth. They said he controlled the eastern seaboard’s bloodline. That he once made a man eat a diamond ring after betraying him. That he’d buried three women alive just to prove a point. Her father called him “an asset.” Her mother said, “Don’t look him in the eye. He can smell defiance.”
But he was also rich. Connected. And a shortcut to resurrecting the Forrest family name.
Madison didn’t care. She wasn’t going to die as some mafia lord’s breathing trophy. She wasn’t going to survive off wedding diamonds and cold stares. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let her parents decide which cage she spent her life in.
She closed the suitcase. It didn’t zip all the way. It wouldn’t matter once she was on the bus.
The back window of her bedroom opened with a groan, the paint still chipped from the last time she’d tried to sneak out, two years ago, to meet Andrei in a field of dry grass and secrets. Back when things still felt fixable. Back when she believed in stolen moments more than family duty.
Her feet hit the ground with a soft thud. She clutched the suitcase to her chest and started toward the woods. No one used the trail anymore. It led straight to Raccoon City’s edge, where the bus station waited with its flickering lights and scratched plastic chairs.
Her breath was a cloud in the chill air. Her lungs burned, but her legs didn’t stop.
She didn’t cry.
She wouldn’t.
Twenty minutes passed before Vanya noticed the silence.
The house was too still. Madison’s tea sat untouched on the kitchen counter. Her room was empty. Her phone was gone. And the vault, where the family kept emergency savings, had been forced open.
“Garrett,” Vanya called. “Come here. Now.”
Her husband’s face was already draining color as he stepped into the room. She showed him the empty vault. Then Madison’s stripped bed.
Garrett’s jaw clenched. “She took the money.”
Vanya didn’t answer.
He slammed his fist on the counter, rattling the plates. “She ran.”
The phone rang.
They stared at it.
Neither moved.
The screen lit up with a name that silenced the room.
Ivan Callahan.
Vanya picked it up on the third ring, hand trembling. “Mr. Callahan,” she managed.
There was no greeting. Just a voice like smoke wrapped around glass. “Does the ceremony still stand?”
Garrett nodded at her, eyes hard. “Say yes.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
There was a pause.
“Good,” Ivan said. Then the line went dead.
Two hours later, Garrett stood in front of an old apartment door on the west side of town.
“She won’t agree,” Vanya said behind him.
“She won’t need to,” Garrett replied, and knocked.
Inside, Madeleine Forrest stood barefoot in a hoodie too big for her, hair tangled from sleep, eyes suspicious the second she opened the door.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Garrett didn’t answer.
He lunged.
The needle went in fast, a sedative laced into the cloth pressed to her mouth. She fought, scratching, kicking, spitting. But the weight of betrayal hit harder than the drugs. Her mother stood behind her father, silent, staring.
“You can’t—” Madeleine gasped.
Then darkness dragged her down.
⸻
She woke up to satin sheets and the echo of her own scream.
Tied wrists. Blinding chandelier. A room she hadn’t seen in years.
Home.
They brought her home.
Her mother sat in the corner, fingers clasped in her lap like a woman in mourning. “You’re awake.”
“You drugged me,” Madeleine said.
“You wouldn’t have come if we asked.”
“You should’ve tried.”
Vanya’s face cracked for a second, something close to guilt surfacing and vanishing just as fast. “We didn’t have a choice.”
Madeleine sat up, wrists raw from rope. “You always have a choice. You just pick the one where I get screwed.”
Garrett entered, holding a black dress bag. “You’ll wear this.”
“I’m not Madison.”
“They won’t know that.”
“They’ll know the second I open my mouth.”
Garrett’s voice sharpened. “Not if you listen. Smile. Keep quiet.”
“I’ll report you,” Madeleine spat. “Kidnapping. Assault. Drugging. I’ll bury you both.”
Garrett looked at her like she was twelve again, screaming at ghosts. “You won’t. Because if you do, Matteo dies.”
Everything froze.
Her heart, her breath, the anger surging in her veins.
“What?”
“He’s in Ivan’s custody,” Vanya said quietly. “You want him back, you marry the man.”
“You tricked Ivan.”
“No,” Garrett said. “We bought time. With your face.”
Madeleine laughed. It was ugly, bitter. “He’ll know. You’re asking me to stand in front of a monster and pretend I’m the one he chose. You think he won’t notice?”
“You’ll read the vows,” Garrett said, placing the bag beside her. “You’ll sign the papers. You’ll keep Matteo alive.”
Madeleine stared at the floor, breathing through the weight crushing her chest.
They hadn’t asked her.
They hadn’t begged.
They’d just taken.
The door closed behind them. She was alone with the dress, the silence, and the gnawing truth that her parents had sold her soul to a man even the devil probably feared.
And tomorrow, she’d be his bride.
