Chapter 1 The Failed Wedding
"I'll ask you one last time. Are you sure this won't become a problem for you?"
"Please don't make me doubt myself, Erick. I've thought everything through. This is the best path for us."
"One step forward, and there will be no turning back, Cyril."
Cyril stared straight at the church before her. Clouds rolled across the Manchester sky that afternoon, and the gentle breeze brushing her skin made her shiver slightly.
A heavy breath escaped her lips. Cyril lowered her gaze to their clasped hands, held so tightly they offered both warmth and doubt at the same time, then lifted her eyes back to Erick, her lover.
"I've never hesitated when making a decision. With you, I'm ready to face the complications of the world. You know how I got here, walking hand in hand with you. So don't doubt me, my love." Erick lifted her soft hand and pressed a kiss to it. "I love you so much, Cyril."
"I trust you." Cyril nodded firmly. Her resolve was set.
"Alright. We'll begin a new life after this." Erick smiled, his gaze filled with love as he looked at the young woman.
Two pairs of footsteps moved side by side into the sacred building. They could not deny the nervousness churning in their hearts. It showed in their fingers, still entwined, now damp with sweat.
They exchanged glances and brief nods, their eyes strengthening one another.
After meeting one of the clergy with whom they had made an appointment, they spoke briefly. Not long after, the two stood facing each other, separated by a small table.
"Are you ready to bind yourselves in holy matrimony before God? Is there no coercion from anyone?"
"Yes, we are ready," Erick and Cyril answered in unison.
They wore simple clothing. Cyril even wore a sleeveless, knee length white dress. Her brownish blonde hair fell loose over her shoulders, with no striking makeup on her face.
"Very well, let us begin," the priest said.
Several people were present, not invited guests nor family members, but churchgoers who had come to worship.
Cyril closed her eyes as the priest's voice began. A prayer was spoken before the blessing ceremony. The image of her late parents drifted through her mind.
Forgive me, she whispered silently, hoping her words could reach them in heaven.
"Wait!"
A baritone voice rang out along with the sound of heavy footsteps. Cyril's eyes flew open. She turned toward the source of the voice at the church's main entrance.
Several men dressed entirely in black marched in unison, a suffocating heat seeming to fill the entire building. Eyes narrowed as people tried to identify who had arrived.
"Carlos."
Cyril's heart threatened to leap from her chest when she recognized the man walking toward her. Her breath caught. She immediately shifted her position, standing in front of Erick.
But it was not only Carlos who made it hard for her to breathe. Another figure behind him made her tremble slightly.
A man with sharp eyes, a cold face, and an aura that sent chills down her spine with a single glance. Lucas Miller.
The other visitors grew restless and hurried to move away, scrambling for safety as more than twenty burly men flooded the church, as if they meant to sabotage the place.
It was not just their presence that terrified them, but what they carried. Guns.
"You're frightening them," Cyril said, glancing at the people who immediately hid between the rows of pews.
A firm step echoed, radiating oppressive heat with every movement. Lucas Miller was the owner of that stride.
"How can you marry that damn boy when you are my fiancée, Cyril Ravelle?" Lucas's voice was cold, yet it burned the ears of those who heard it. His gaze never left the young woman now holding another man's hand, and his jaw tightened at the sight.
"Let go of his hand," he commanded, continuing to advance without hesitation.
"Stop right there." Cyril spoke sharply, fear lodged deep in her chest. "Or I wi—"
"You ungrateful little sister." Carlos stepped forward and yanked Cyril's arm, forcibly breaking her grip on Erick's hand. "How dare you marry him, huh? Have you forgotten who you are?"
"Don't hurt Cyril!" Erick grabbed Carlos's arm as it moved to slap her.
"Bastard, stay out of this!" Carlos kicked Erick in the stomach, sending him crashing to the floor. Screams echoed from those hiding behind the pews.
"Erick." Cyril tried to run to him, but her wrist was clamped tightly in her brother's grasp. "Don't hurt Erick, Carlos," she screamed.
"You're defending this snot nosed kid? He's fooling you. You're nineteen, he's twenty five. What do you think you'll become, huh? Have you forgotten you're Lucas's fiancée?" Carlos glared fiercely at his sister.
"I love Erick and I don't love him," Cyril shot back, pointing at Lucas. "And age, does that guarantee anything? Erick is younger than him and has never been violent toward anyone. I don't want to marry him. I don't love him. I hate him."
The sound of a hard slap cracked against Cyril's cheek. Her small body staggered, and she would have fallen if Lucas had not caught her.
"Don't you dare touch what's mine, Carlos." Lucas raised the gun drawn from behind him, pressing the muzzle against Carlos's temple. "I won't hesitate to kill you if you hurt what's mine, even if you're my most trusted man," he hissed.
"I'm sorry." Carlos glanced at his sister, then bowed his head to Lucas. He stepped back to join Lucas's men.
Lucas's gaze returned to Cyril as he returned the gun to its place. One hand brushed her reddened cheek. "Tell me if it hurts. I'll settle the score with your brother," he said in a low voice.
"Don't touch me!" Cyril even spat at Lucas's handsome face. Her chest heaved violently. The pain was not only physical but also deep in her heart.
"Sir."
Lucas raised a hand when Benny, his assistant, approached, stopping the man from coming closer. His grip on Cyril's wrist tightened as he wiped his face with a handkerchief taken from his Armani suit.
"You'd rather let him touch you than me, your future husband?"
"You are not my future husband. Erick is the one who will marry me. If it's not him, I won't marry anyone, especially not you," Cyril shouted.
Lucas's jaw clenched. Her words were sharper than a blade slicing through his heart.
"Take him," he ordered his men to seize Erick. Aware that this was a sacred place, he might have been a bastard, but he had enough restraint not to turn it into a bloodbath.
He dragged Cyril along as he headed out, ignoring her resistance.
"Stay quiet and obey, or you will watch that snot nosed boy's blood trail along the road and haunt your nights."