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“Amos? I thought it was Rivers?”

“Why’s this surprising? We don’t know each other at all, Hudson,” I remind him softly.

He clenches his jaw before replying, “I do.”

The sound of the cage door slamming shut echoes in my head.

“Do you, Starling Amos, take Hudson Peters to be your lawfully wedded…”

I zone out, drifting off until Hudson nudges me. I shake my head before answering. “I do.” My whisper is almost drowned out by the click of the lock in my brain.

Once again, I’m owned by a man that wants to use me.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride. Uh-Huh! Thank you. Thank you very much.”

The two random witnesses dragged in to watch my downfall clap loudly. To all the smiling faces, this is a wedding, a time to celebrate. To me, it’s a funeral, and all I can do is mourn the life I could have had.

Hudson’s eyes glitter with smug satisfaction and lust as he yanks me to him and kisses me in a way that makes me glad there aren’t any children present. When he pulls away, he takes my hand and thanks the witnesses and Elvis, who’s already looking at the slightly drunk couple coming in behind us.

I keep my head down as Hudson leads me back to the car and helps me inside. I let him move me like a doll, still too shocked to comprehend that this is my life now.

He gives the driver another address before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “Mrs. Peters.”

Tears fill my eyes as he pulls me to his chest. I don’t fight him, don’t say a word. I cry silent tears as I say goodbye to Amos, the last thing my mother gave me.

When we stop, I don’t bother waiting for him to open the door this time. I get out, needing air. I take a deep breath, hoping it settles my stomach. But when Hudson leads me into a tattoo parlor a moment later, I feel like I can’t breathe, and nothing will help. I look up at him, pleading with my eyes that it’s just for him and not me.

“Hey, Pete. Come on over.”

I look behind me, but when Hudson squeezes my hand and pulls me to one of the two empty chairs, I realize he’s talking to Hudson. Why the heck did he call him Pete?

“Hud—”

He cuts me off with a quick kiss to my mouth, a warning flashing in his eyes. But a warning about what?

I sit in the chair and watch warily as the tattoo artist sets up. I grip the armrest, ready to run, when Hudson hands me his phone. I look at him in question and take it, glancing at the screen where a video’s playing. A video of Hudson fucking me bent over the bed Abbot’s sleeping in.

Vomit rushes up my throat. I cover my mouth with my hand and delete the video.

Hudson chuckles, the sound seeming to come from far away. “You didn’t think that was the only copy, did you?” He takes his phone out of my hand.

I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll kill him. I’ll take that tattoo gun, and I jam it in his eye.

“So who’s up first?”

“Starling.”

He takes my hand and places it on the little cart the tattoo guy wheels over.

“So how do you want it? I’ve tattooed lots of wedding bands over the years, and everyone likes to put their spin on it.”

I stare at my hand in horror. He’s tattooing a fucking ring on me. Why not just brand me like a cow?

“H in the center with the band made up of cherry blossom stems,” Hudson tells him. I keep staring at my hand, willing this to all be a dream.

“That work?” the guy asks me.

All I can manage is a nod.