Anton nodded to the officiant. “Well, let’s get started then. Shall we? And we can move onto the reception. Such a pity you won’t be here, Maxim.”
Maxim gave a nod, his gaze on her all the while. She ignored it, zoning out as the official droned on. She’d been through this so many times she was word perfect anyway.
“…If anyone has just cause or reason why they may not lawfully be wed, let them speak, or forever hold their peace.”
She waited as the official gave a dramatic little pause, as though expecting someone to object. They all did it, a little smirk on their lips at this little bit of power afforded them. It was cliché and boring.
Until the door behind her exploded inward, and a familiar, broad-shouldered figure stood framed in the ruins.
“I object,” Altav growled. “She’s already married. To me.”
Skinny stood framed in the doorway, his gaze locked on the slender woman in white. He couldn’t look away from her, drinking in every detail about her within a heartbeat. The ache in the center of his chest intensified as he noted the fragility of her frame and the dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t eaten or slept since she’d run away days ago, but it was more than that. His heart ached at the haunting sadness wrapped around her like a mantle.
He’d done that. He’d put that misery into her eyes and stamped out the last little bit of defiance that had allowed her to escape her father. Because she wasn’t fighting or running now. Instead she stood meekly next to her father, resignation written into every line of her body… into the tired slump of her shoulders.
“Ignore him. That marriage wasn’t legal anyway,” Anton said to the official and motioned at his bodyguards. They were the two he recalled from the market.
“What marriage?” the male on the screen demanded, but he was ignored by everyone.
Skinny growled and stepped forward to allow the rest of the Warborne to stream past him.
“Valid or not, this wedding isn’t happening.”
Lifting his pistols, Skinny fired both, shattering the screen with the smug asshole who’d thought he could marry Marika and take her from him. He snarled again. No one could have his little mouse. She was his.
The firefight was anticlimactic. Both bodyguards hit the deck within seconds, neat bullet holes in the centers of their foreheads and matching looks of surprise on their faces. Either they’d been utterly confident in their own abilities, or they’d seriously thought their boss’s reputation would somehow protect them even from bullets.
“Well dammit,” Sparky grumbled. “Really expected a little more than that. You’re supposed to be evil henchmen,” he directed at the two bodies. “You know? Put up a fight… not just like die right away.”
“Stay back, all of you!” Anton snarled, grabbing Marika and shoving a vicious-looking dagger against her throat. “Let me and my daughter leave, and no one gets hurt.”
Skinny froze, his heart almost stopping at the sight of the blade against Marika’s delicate throat. Even from here he could see the frantic fluttering of her pulse in her neck. She wasn’t a hardened mercenary like the rest of them. She was terrified, the scent of her fear filling the room. Anton angled the dagger, the soft lights in the room catching the lethal edge. Skinny held his hand out in a silent command for the Warborne to stay back. One wrong move and Anton would slit his daughter’s throat.
She locked eyes with him, and he read the acceptance of her own death there. “Kill me,” she begged. “Please.”
His heart broke. Her voice was broken, her eyes sad. “Please don’t say that, little mouse. Don’t ever say that… ask that.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “There’s nothing left for me anymore.”
“I can’t kill you. I won’t. You have so much to live for.”
She smiled sadly. “I was dead long before we met. I should never have run. I should have just let him give me to Maxim.”
“No…”
She regretted running. Did she regret meeting him? No, he couldn’t believe that. He wouldn’t.
“You shouldn’t. Never. We were meant to meet, little mouse. Meant to fall in love.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes as she shook her head. A bright bead of blood trailed down her throat, the skin cut by her father’s blade.
“It’s too painful.”
“What is, little mouse?” Hope filled him and he surged forward half a step, the two of them locked into their own private conversation in the middle of all the tension. He was only brought up sharp by a nonverbal warning from Anton as he pulled his daughter closer against him.
“Nothing,” he snarled and shook her. “You, stop talking, you little bitch. We’re walking out of here and none of you assholes are going to stop us.”
He started to drag her backward toward the door. Skinny followed, knowing full well, if Anton got her through that door, he’d never see her again. Not alive.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he snarled. “Let her go and we’ll let you leave.”
Something flared in the backs of Anton’s eyes, so quickly that Skinny almost missed it. He was already moving the moment Anton drew his blade across Marika’s throat.
“No! Oh, lady, please. No,” he gasped, catching her in his arms when Anton thrust her away. Blood cascaded down the front of her body.
“It’s okay, little mouse. I’ve got you,” he promised on a broken whisper as he held her close in one arm, his other hand pressing hard on her throat. “You’re going to be okay. I promise. I love you.”
She smiled and then her eyes fluttered closed as his world ended.
Looking up, he caught T’Raal’s gaze, his heart breaking in his chest.
He’d lied and now he’d killed the woman he loved, just like he had his family.
Time passed in a blur of agony. Each second was an eternity of torment. Skinny was numb, his teammates nudging him in the right direction as they got him and Marika back to the Sprite. She was dead in his arms and he couldn’t bring himself to think, much less talk about anything. His world had reduced to dull browns and greys as they hustled him through the ship. The only time he roused was when they tried to take his mouse from him and he fought them. She was his. No one was taking her from him.
Then Sparky was in front of him. He had a quick glimpse of a fist before agony exploded across his face.
“Let. The. Fuck. Go!” the human snarled, snatching Marika when Skinny stumbled back. “Unless you want her to fucking die, you fucking melodramatic bastard!”
“What? You mean…” Skinny nursed his jaw as the others closed ranks while Sparky bundled Marika onto the medical bed. “Is she…”
“Still has a heartbeat,” Tal’s voice was clipped and professional. “Sit if you’re going to. One word and I’ll have Sparky throw you out an airlock.”
He crawled closer, hardly daring to believe… to hope…
“Please, darling,” he murmured sitting as close to the bed as he could. The rings spun, casting a blueish glow over the fallen woman. She was so pale she looked dead and broken. His eyes filled with tears, the ragged hole where his heart had been pulsing with agony.