The Wedding Party

Part 87: A River

Ashleigh's breath hitched as she watched Alanna's lifeless body being carried away by the swift current of the river. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out any other sound. She lifted her tear-streaked face to see Brandt's cold eyes staring back at her.

"Alanna!" Helena yelled from a distance, desperately trying to reach her friend. Preston grabbed her arm, stopping her just inches from the edge of the cliff. "We're too far away," he said, his voice breaking with despair.

"Leave me alone!" Ashleigh shouted at Brandt, her voice trembling with anger and fear. He waved his knife menacingly, an evil smile playing on his lips.

"You can't have me." Ashleigh's voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried determination and defiance. With a final glance at the river below, she let go of the bridge, resigning herself to the cold embrace of the water.

"NO!" Helena screamed, watching Ashleigh disappear into the raging water. Brandt's gaze shifted to Helena and Preston, acknowledging their presence for the first time. Without another word, he turned and left the bridge.

Miguel and Killian emerged from the pipe, their faces a mix of shock and disbelief as they looked down at the river below. "What happened?" Miguel asked, his voice shaking.

"Brandt," Preston choked out, struggling to find words. "He took Alanna...and now Ashleigh."

Up in the attic, Jairo sifted through the files Amelia had been examining, searching for any clue that could help them understand what was happening. His hands trembled as he came across a police report involving Braeden. The words blurred together, but he knew this information would change everything.

For now, though, there was no time for revelations. They had to find Ashleigh, stop Brandt, and put an end to this nightmare once and for all.

The cold wind whipped through the cracked window of Layne's car, stirring Olive from her fitful slumber. She tightened her grip on the rifle cradled in her arms, the chill of the metal seeping through her coat. A pair of weary eyes stared back at her from the rearview mirror - a stark reminder of the sleep she so desperately needed.

"Hey," Braeden whispered, reaching for the rifle. Olive's eyes shot open, her body tensing as she instinctively pulled the weapon closer to her chest. "You shouldn't sleep with a loaded gun."

"Fine," she muttered, reluctantly handing it over. Her heart raced in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The thought of closing her eyes again sent shivers down her spine, but exhaustion weighed heavily on her eyelids.

"Get some rest. I'll keep watch," Braeden assured her, his voice strained and laced with concern. Olive nodded, sinking back into the worn upholstery and letting her thoughts drift away.

"Stay alert," she mumbled, before succumbing to the darkness that clawed at the edges of her vision.

As Olive slept, Braeden let out a deep sigh, clutching the rifle tightly in his hands. He scanned their surroundings, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of danger. Each gust of wind sent leaves skittering across the ground, setting his nerves on edge.

"Stay safe, Ashleigh," he whispered under his breath, his mind unwilling to accept the harsh reality of their situation. Images of Zackary's lifeless body flashed through his thoughts, fueling his determination to protect those who remained.

"Damn you, Braeden," Jairo cursed softly, his knuckles turning white around the file. As the seconds ticked by, the weight of the police report he had discovered hung heavy in his mind. The truth was a double-edged sword - one that could either save them or cut them down.

"Please, let us make it out of this alive," Braeden prayed, his gaze never leaving the darkness that enveloped them. Yet, through the shadows and uncertainty, Braeden's resolve only grew stronger. He would see this through until the bitter end.