Chapter 1 - The Question at the Altar

The first drop of blood fell onto my white roses just as my groom took my hand.
Nathan Mercer stared at the red spot spreading through the gauze around my wrist. Above us, crystal chandeliers scattered warm sunlight across Ashford Hall. Two hundred guests sat beneath an arch made from thousands of white roses. The string quartet stopped in the middle of a song.
"Evie?" Nathan whispered. "What happened to you?"
I had imagined my wedding day a hundred times. In none of those dreams had my face been covered with medical bandages, my fingers wrapped like broken porcelain, or my father been gripping my elbow as though the floor might disappear beneath us.
Only my eyes were visible through a narrow opening in the white fabric. The veil brushed my shoulders. My lace sleeves were beautiful, and that made everything worse. Beauty had been arranged around something ugly, and everyone knew it.
Nathan gently turned my hand over. The stain grew darker. His face changed from confusion to something sharper.
"Who did this?"
My father, Arthur Bennett, stood between us in a black tuxedo. At sixty-eight, he could still silence a room with one look. Today his silver hair was immaculate, his gray beard neatly trimmed, and his eyes full of a fear he refused to show.
"Arthur," Nathan said, his voice rising. "Tell me."
Dad pressed his lips together.
Two women in the first row leaned toward each other. Mrs. Bell, wearing navy blue, whispered, "Why is her entire face covered?" Her friend in black lace shook her head without taking her eyes off me.
I wanted to tell them everything. I wanted to tell the man I loved that yesterday, someone had pinned me against a glass door and poured a burning liquid toward my face. I wanted to tell him that I had heard his voice before the attack.
Instead, I looked beyond his shoulder.
His older brother, Owen, stood beside the altar in a flawless gray suit, smiling as if nothing were wrong. Our eyes met. His smile slipped.
"Ask your brother," I whispered.
May you like
Nathan went still. Behind him, Owen took one slow step toward the side exit.
Then my father caught my bandaged wrist and said, "Evie, don't. Not until we know where your sister is."