Fighting for Eden

2. The Wedding

Eight hours have passed since I learned of the master’s plan. I’ve paced the room, screamed in anger until my voice gave out, and now I sit on the edge of the bed, turning over my limited options. For the first time in a long while, I do not know what tomorrow holds. But one thing is certain: the master cannot win. I will not let him.

I hear the key turn in the lock before the door swings open to reveal him. He stands before me dressed not in his usual fitted grey suit but something far more theatrical: a tight black suit with long coat tails, a crisp white shirt fastened with black buttons, and golden cufflinks at the wrists. His shoes are polished so highly you can see your reflection in them—having been forced to kiss those shoes more than once as penance for imagined transgressions, I can attest to their mirror-like quality.

In his arms, he carries a large white box that fills me with dread. He sets it on the floor before straightening and looking me over with his cold, calculating gaze.

“Stand.”

The order is clipped and devoid of warmth, leaving no room for disobedience. Not that I would dare. If I’m going to attempt escape tonight, I’ll need all my strength.

The master pulls me roughly toward him and removes a pair of scissors from his pocket. For a moment, I think he means to cut me. Instead, he begins snipping away at the front of my grey vest top—slowly, methodically—until he has shredded my clothes entirely, leaving me naked before him. He steps back and stares.

“Breathtaking.”

After letting his gaze roam over me for a full minute, he turns and opens the box, pulling out a mass of white fabric.

“Put this on.”

I struggle into the cocoon of heavy fabric, trying not to let my collar snag on the intricate lace. If I damage it, I’ll suffer.

“Turn.”

I spin slowly, careful not to trip on the thick layers. The corset squeezes my ribs, and the weight of the skirt is suffocating. The bodice is mostly sheer, leaving me far too exposed beneath the master’s gaze. His soft noises of approval as I twirl do nothing to settle my nerves.

“Perfect.”

It’s little more than a whisper, but it sends a shiver down my spine.

He clips the leash to my collar and drags me out of the room, down the corridor. I automatically turn left toward the dining room, but he stops me with a laugh.

“Oh no, pet. It’s not dinner time.”

He pulls on the leash, forcing me to follow. I stumble, not yet used to the weight of the dress, but he doesn’t pause to help.

He leads me into a room I’ve never seen before. My eyes widen at the sight: rows of empty wooden benches, each intricately carved, face a raised platform draped in golden silk. Two rows of candles line the central aisle leading to the altar.

I scan the room for escape routes—doors, windows—but find none. I start searching for anything I can use as a weapon. I’m so focused I barely hear the master’s next command.

Pain explodes through me as a shock courses down my spine, dropping me to my knees. He doesn’t wait for me to recover; he drags me down the center aisle. I have to gather the dress to avoid knocking over the candles.

By the time we reach the altar, I’ve just managed to find my feet.

“No!” the master screams, rage blazing in his sunken eyes.

“Kneel before me. Kneel before your master.”

My body trembles—not with fear, but fury. It boils inside me, consuming everything in its path. My heart pounds like a war drum, and from deep within me, something rises—a beast I’ve dreamed about for years. The wolf. She is snarling, sharp-toothed and feral, and yet intimately familiar.

I look into her crystal blue eyes—and she looks back. In that moment, I understand: she is me, and I am her.

“I SAID KNEEL!” the master roars, his spit dotting my skin.

He presses the button again. Electricity dances along my nerves, but I don’t fall. I’m immune to the pain now.

“No.”

My voice is clear, firm—unshaken.

The master blinks, startled. Then he yanks the leash, trying to pull me to the floor. A sound escapes me—low, guttural, animalistic—as I stumble into his chest. His arms wrap around me like a vice, crushing me to him.

“You listen to me, pet,” he hisses in my ear. “You are mine. I bought you. I trained you. You do as I command. And I command you to kneel.”

Our bodies are pressed so tightly together I can feel every bony ridge, every disgusting contour. Something hard digs into my hip, and my eyes drop—catching the gleam of a metallic object in his pocket. The scissors.

“Yes, master. I’m sorry, master,” I say, forcing a tremble into my voice. “I’ll do everything you command.”

The beast inside me thrashes in protest, but the master is elated.

“Good pet. Now kneel.”

He releases me. I inhale sharply, trying not to gag on the stale smell of coffee and cigars that clings to him. I slowly lower myself to the floor, trailing my hands down his chest. As I do, I slide one hand into his pocket and close my fingers around the cold metal.

The scissors are nearly free when his hand clamps around my wrist.

“Now, pet… what were you planning to do with these?”

Panic claws up my throat. His slap sends me sideways, ears ringing, eyes watering. I fall to my knees and try to crawl, but he grabs my ankles and drags me backward. Splinters tear at my skin.

Desperate, I claw toward an ornate candelabra and knock it over. It crashes into the golden drapes. Flames begin to crawl up the silk.

“You can’t escape me. You’re mine.”

He lunges, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking me back to kneel at his feet.

“You are mine. You will obey me.” He spits in my face, venom in his voice.

The beast inside me roars. I feel her rage and make it mine.

“Never!”

My voice is raw and wild. The master’s eyes blaze with fury.

He pulls the scissors from his pocket and slashes my cheek—jaw to eye, a searing line of fire.

Shock paralyzes me. He has hurt me before, but never left a mark. Never something permanent.

Blood trickles down my cheek, soaking into the lace. The ivory turns crimson. I watch the stain bloom. The wolf inside howls loud enough to shake the walls.

“What… what did you make me do?” the master whispers, his voice distant. He’s far too close, yet frozen. Motionless. He doesn’t even seem to breathe.

I meet his eyes—and something strange happens. He can’t move. Can’t speak. He is trapped. The longer I stare, the louder the howling grows, until the sound is unbearable.

I tear my eyes away and look down.

A single droplet of blood falls from my cheek and lands on the wooden floor.

And the world shifts.