I Kidnapped My Ex On His Wedding Day

Chapter 7

CHARLIE

By the time Christian James’s wedding was supposed to begin, the afternoon light had already started to die.

That meant we were going to be walking long after dark.

And after that long stretch through the forest, we finally reached the secret cabin my father and I used to use.

Or at least, it used to be a secret.

Not anymore.

Not since I dragged Christian James here with me.

It didn’t matter anyway. Once I got the five million dollars they promised me, I had no intention of ever coming back.

It had been so long since I’d last been here that I almost forgot the path, but I’d left a mark on the tree — the letter L — so we wouldn’t get lost.

Left.

Easy enough.

I doubted anyone had discovered this place either, because the lock was still there when I lit the door with my flashlight.

People were still terrified of this forest. Still clinging to old rumors with no proof at all. My father and I had come here countless times before, and nothing had ever happened.

I handed the flashlight to Christian James, took the key from the back pocket of my pants, and slid it into the lock.

Then thunder rolled overhead.

Sharp. Low. Almost like the sky itself was warning us.

Perfect timing.

Of course, rain was coming.

Once the lock came off, I took the flashlight back from him and pushed the door open.

We stepped inside.

And just like that, I knew no one had found the cabin yet.

Not a trace of forced entry. Not a sign of intrusion.

Good.

I immediately searched for the rechargeable camping light we kept here. I had been away long enough that I was sure the battery would be dead, but I’d brought power banks, so it wasn’t a problem.

I found the lamp on the table.

I took off my backpack, set it down, and pulled out one of the two power banks I’d packed. I plugged the lamp in.

A red indicator light blinked on.

Still alive.

I switched it on, and the cabin slowly came to life, its shadows peeling back one by one. I turned off the flashlight now that we had a better source of light.

The cabin was dusty, but intact.

Open space. Kitchen. Bathroom. Bed.

Everything where it should be.

I opened the two wooden chest boxes in the corner to check the old supplies.

One held blankets, sheets, and clothes.

The other was packed with food — several cans, noodles, biscuits, and bottles of mineral water.

Good.

We had enough.

I shut the box.

Then he spoke.

“I knew it. You couldn’t resist me. I knew you’d come. You still love me, don’t you?”

I looked at him.

He was grinning like the devil had taught him how.

The light caught the sharp line of his jaw, the arrogant tilt of his mouth, the stupid confidence in his eyes.

I almost laughed.

Almost.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I said, my tone flat.

But he kept looking at me like I was already in his hands.

Like he’d been waiting for this moment.

Like he knew exactly how to get under my skin.

I stepped closer.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said coldly. “I came because your brother promised me five million dollars. That’s it.”

His expression changed, just for a second.

Enough for me to notice.

Enough for me to know he had no idea.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

That made me pause.

Because his face wasn’t smug anymore.

It was confused.

Genuinely confused.

And suddenly I understood why he had been asking so many questions earlier.

He didn’t know.

He really didn’t know.

“You didn’t know?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He shook his head.

And that was when I realized it.

I had been played.

Christopher had used me.

That tiny bastard had set the whole thing up and left me holding the blade by the handle.

Then Christian James laughed.

Not a polite laugh.

Not a nervous one.

A sharp, wicked laugh that echoed through the cabin and crawled over my nerves.

"Looks like my brother got you," he said, still laughing. "He’s not paying you anything. We're broke. That's why Dad's marrying me off to Gretchen."

The laugh that escaped me after that was pure disbelief.

Then rage.

Then something colder.

What the hell?

I reached into my bag and pulled out the Swiss Army knife I always carried.

If he was lying, then he had better take it back now.

Especially after everything I’d done to get him out of that church.

I’d barely slept.

I’d spent the entire night planning how to pull him out without getting torn apart by the security detail.

And now he was standing here, smiling at me like he thought this was funny.

“Charlie, what are you doing?” he asked, both hands lifting in surrender.

I held the knife up, the blade catching the cabin light.

“Call your brother,” I said. “Unless you want me to cut off your fingers one by one.”

He backed up until the wall stopped him.

The cabin was suddenly too small.

Too warm.

Too silent.

Then he looked at me with that same infuriating half-smile and said, “If I were you, I wouldn’t do that. Have you forgotten what those fingers used to do to you?”

My breath caught.

Not because I wanted to remember.

Because I already had.

The past rose like heat under my skin, unwanted and dangerous and alive.

And I hated him for it.

I hated that he could still pull that reaction out of me.

Hated that he knew exactly where to press.

I let out a sharp laugh and tightened my grip on the knife.

He really wanted to drag the past into the room with us.

He really wanted to make this worse.

But then I realized something.

Why was I threatening him with a knife when I had a gun?

I slid the knife back into my pocket and reached for the gun tucked at my side.

But at the exact same moment, he moved too.

Too fast.

Too smooth.

In one breathless instant, we were both armed.

Both pointing guns at each other.

The cabin went still.

Even the storm outside seemed to hold its breath.

“I want my money,” I said through gritted teeth. “I did my part. I got you out of the church. And now you’re getting a free stay in this cabin.”

My voice came out hard, but my pulse was pounding.

Because this suddenly felt wrong.

Not dangerous.

Worse.

Personal.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice dropping low and smooth like velvet dragged over a knife. “I can pay you.”

I stared at him.

“Are you insane?” I snapped. “You said a minute ago that your family had no money. And now you’re saying you can pay me?”

He lowered his gun.

Not because he was weak.

Because he had decided something.

That was worse.

He stepped toward me slowly, like a predator who already knew the distance between us was only an illusion.

“You said you wanted money,” he murmured. “So we’ll find a way.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

Then lifted again.

“But for now…” His voice darkened. “Let me taste those lips.”

The words hit me like a hand around the throat.

Cold.

Possessive.

Sinfully calm.

He set his gun on the table and came closer.

I should have moved.

Should have backed away.

Should have aimed at him.

But the cabin air felt thicker now, heavier, charged with something that made my skin burn.

Then, in a blur of motion, he struck.

My gun was gone from my hand before I could even react.

Fùck.

He had disarmed me.

Just like that.

And before I could recover, he closed the distance between us and wrapped both arms around my waist.

My breath hitched.

He lifted me off the floor with disturbing ease and pinned me back against the wall.

The impact sent a tremor through me.

Then his mouth was on mine.

And everything inside me cracked open.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was dark, hungry, and overwhelming — the kind of kiss that felt like it had been waiting years to happen, the kind that dragged every buried feeling back to the surface and made them impossible to ignore.

The cabin, the storm, the lies, the gun, the deal — all of it vanished.

All I could feel was him.

His hands.

His mouth.

The heat of his body pressed against mine.

The dangerous pull of him.

My skin burned under his touch.

My breath turned ragged.

And somewhere in the middle of all that heat and fury and memory, I stopped fighting him.

Because the worst part was this:

I kissed him back.