COLLATERAL BRIDE

IT SHOULD'VE BEEN A GOOD DAY

I entered the office weirder than normal… yeah, with Aria, that was possible. I was confused, scattered, and distracted. My head wasn’t in the present — it was still back in that dimly lit apartment, replaying words I didn’t know how to process.

"I told you I’d make you remember."

And God, I remembered. Too vividly.

But that was a different world — one that didn’t belong here, between ringing phones, endless emails, and colleagues who thrived on gossip.

So, I muttered a quick prayer under my breath before sliding into my seat, begging the universe to let me survive another day without drama.

“Looks like you’re safe today, Aria,” Jenna said suddenly, leaning over my desk.

I blinked up at her. “What do you mean?”

“Margot isn’t coming in today.”

I frowned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m serious! I even heard a rumor she’s been dismissed.” Jenna’s grin widened. “That part isn’t confirmed yet, but what’s confirmed is—today, Margot’s missing in action.”

The grin on her face was contagious.

For the first time in weeks, my shoulders loosened. The thought of working without Margot’s voice slicing through the air like a siren was almost surreal. I wanted to laugh, to clap my hands and thank God right there and then, but instead I just muttered, “Maybe peace does exist.”

Jenna chuckled. “If this isn’t divine favor, I don’t know what is.”

The day flew by smoother than it had in months. I actually got to work — really work — without being interrupted or humiliated. My coffee didn’t taste like anxiety. I sent reports without my hands trembling. I even smiled at people.

But the strangest part? The quiet.

The office was too calm, like a sea before a storm. Even Jenna noticed it when she passed by my desk after lunch.

“Weirdly peaceful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I replied softly. “Almost suspiciously peaceful.”

We laughed, but a faint chill crawled down my spine.

---

By the time I clocked out, the sun had already started bleeding into the horizon. The city glowed in orange and pink, but my heart felt heavier with each step.

It should’ve been a good day — no Margot, no chaos, no mistakes. But something inside me wouldn’t settle. The silence in my chest was too loud.

The evening air carried a damp chill as I walked home, weaving through the thinning crowd. My apartment wasn’t far — just two streets down and a short turn into the narrow alley that split behind the old bakery. It wasn’t the safest shortcut, but it saved ten minutes, and honestly, I just wanted to be home.

I was halfway down the alley when my phone buzzed. Unknown number.

I ignored it.

It buzzed again. Then again.

By the third time, irritation won. “Hello?”

Nothing. Just the sound of air, slow and deliberate.

I froze, my breath fogging in the dim glow of the streetlight. “Who is this?”

Still silence. Then — a low exhale. Male. Close enough that for a second, I thought it wasn’t coming from the phone.

I hung up and shoved the phone into my bag, quickening my pace. My flats tapped too loudly against the cracked pavement.

The alley stretched longer than usual, darker, the lamplight flickering like a dying heartbeat.

Something moved behind me.

I stopped, listening. Nothing. Just the city breathing somewhere far away.

Then — footsteps. Slow. Measured.

I turned around, my throat tightening. “Hello?”

No answer.

I took a few steps backward, glancing around. The alley opened up into a small street that led to my building — I could see the faint outline of the metal gate. Just a few more steps.

Then a voice — male, sharp — cut through the stillness. “Miss Lane.”

My pulse jumped.

Three men emerged from the shadows behind a parked car. Their silhouettes stretched long under the dim light. They weren’t random strangers — I could tell from the way they moved, slow but certain, like predators who’d found what they were hunting.

My hands clenched around my purse. “Who are you?”

The tallest one smiled faintly. “We’re friends of the family.”

The words made my stomach drop. No one who used that phrase ever meant anything good.

“I don’t know you,” I said quickly, taking a step back.

“Of course you do,” another one said smoothly, his accent clipped, too polished. “We work for the Montagues.”

And there it was. The name that made my chest constrict.

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” I said, forcing a shaky laugh.

But they only smiled wider.

One of them stepped closer, his shoes clicking softly against the ground. “You’ve been ignoring their calls. That’s not polite, Miss Lane.”

“I owe them nothing,” I snapped, my voice breaking at the edges.

The first man chuckled. “That’s not how they see it.”

I turned to leave, but the second man moved to block my path, his presence towering, his grin infuriatingly calm.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said.

“Get out of my way.”

The air thickened between us. My heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else.

He tilted his head, studying me. “You know, they said you’d try to run. You’ve got fire, I’ll give you that.”

“Touch me, and I’ll scream,” I warned.

He laughed. “Go ahead. Who’ll hear you here?”

He was right. The alley was empty — the city sounds muted by distance. The shadows seemed to close in tighter with every second.

My mind spun, searching for a way out. My phone was deep in my bag, my keys useless. My building felt miles away now.

I took another step back, my voice trembling. “Tell them I’m not coming back. I don’t care what they want.”

The man’s smile widened. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to come to them.”

Something in his tone made my blood run cold.

And then —

“Easy, boys,” a new voice said from behind them.

Calm. Confident. Dangerous.

The men froze instantly, glancing over their shoulders.

The sound of slow footsteps echoed through the narrow alley, each one deliberate, unhurried — the kind of stride that belonged to someone who didn’t need to rush to be obeyed.

The air shifted. Even the wind seemed to pause.

My breath caught.

The men stepped aside, and from between their shadows, he emerged.

I couldn’t see him clearly at first — just the outline of a tall figure framed by the dying light, shoulders squared, movements lazy but controlled. The sound of his shoes against the pavement was maddeningly familiar.

Something in my chest stilled.

And when he finally stepped forward, letting the dim light touch his face — my heart stopped.

I didn’t need to hear his name.

I already knew that voice.