Fashioned For Sin

Chapter 39

Blair hesitates but eventually walks toward the venue. Her red dress sparkles under the sunlight, and for a brief moment, my focus wavers. Then she disappears through the entrance, and my attention snaps back to the black car.

I stride toward it, fists clenching at my sides. The tinted window rolls down as I approach, revealing a man with a smug grin, someone I recognize from the Dominion’s files—a low-level informant, a parasite.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

He chuckles, leaning back in his seat. “Relax. I’m just here to keep an eye on things. Orders from higher up.”

“Bullshit.” I slam my hand on the car door, the metal denting slightly under my force. “You don’t ‘keep an eye’ on a family wedding without clearing it with me or Benedict first. Who sent you?”

The man’s smirk falters, but he doesn’t answer fast enough. My patience snaps. I yank the car door open, dragging him out by the collar.

“Talk,” I hiss, slamming him against the hood.

“Nobody! I swear!” he stammers. “I just—I thought you’d want someone watching your back after the recent heat—”

My fist connects with his jaw before he can finish. The crunch of bone and the spray of blood are satisfying, but it’s not enough. I hit him again and again until his face is a mess of bruises, and his smugness is replaced with fear.

“You don’t follow me. You don’t follow her. And if I see your face near me again, I’ll make sure you’re unrecognizable next time,” I snarl, my voice cold as ice.

He nods frantically, blood dripping from his split lip. I release him, shoving him back into the driver’s seat. “Now get the hell out of here.”

The car screeches away, and I take a moment to calm my breathing. My knuckles throb, bloodied and bruised, but I don’t care. What matters is Blair’s safety.

Turning back toward the venue, I glance down at my bloodied knuckles. The pain doesn’t bother me. What does is the thought that Blair could’ve been in danger. I push open the door and head straight for the bathroom.

---

The cold water does little to cool my simmering anger as I rinse the blood from my hands. Staring at my reflection, I force myself to relax. Blair doesn’t need to know about this. Not now.

When I step back into the hall, the music has picked up again, and the dance floor is crowded. My eyes immediately find Blair, her red dress clinging to her curves as she laughs with Josephine.

She catches sight of me, her smile softening as she tilts her head. “Took you long enough,” she teases when I reach her.

“Had to deal with something,” I reply, brushing a hand over her waist. “You look stunning, by the way.”

Her lips twitch into a grin. “You’ve mentioned, like a thousand times. I'm starting to think you're obsessed.”

“I'll show you later how obsessed I am. Let's dance.” I take her hand, pulling her onto the dance floor.

For a while, the world fades. It’s just us swaying to the music. Her warmth, her scent—it grounds me in a way nothing else can.

The reception eventually winds down, with most of the guests heading out. Josephine makes her way over, her grin wide and her cheeks flushed with excitement and definitely alcohol.

She's not a drinker, never was, but it is her wedding.

“Alright, now that the boring part’s over, we’re heading to the club. Just like the best of friends. Are you two coming?”