Page 5 of Theirs to Treasure

“And we have a runner!” a man seated at a slot machine calls out.

I finally push through the glass door that signals my freedom.

Outside in the hot Las Vegas air, I drag in a breath and dash to the front of the taxi line and beg the people waiting to let me take the car that has the back door standing open.

A man starts to object, but the woman with him grabs his arm and says, “Let her go first, Ronald.”

Shouting my thanks, I yank the door closed behind me as I slide across the hot seat.

“Where to?” the driver asks, gaze focused on the rearview mirror.

I frantically look out the back window to ensure I’m not being followed. “As far away from here as we can get.”

The driver accelerates away from the area. “Runaway bride?” he asks, as if this is an everyday occurrence.

“Yes,” I manage as I collapse against the seat back.

To him, this might be the way things happen in Vegas, but my life, my hopes, my dreams have all been brutally destroyed. “Will you make sure we’re not followed?”

“You got it.”

The driver doesn’t head down the Strip, he weaves his way through side roads, and I’m grateful for that.

A million thoughts crowd into my mind, and part of me still cannot believe what I saw.

My breaths still coming in frantic little bursts, I take out my phone and look at the horrifying images, scrolling through them, one by one, unable to look away.

Disgusted by the detail and renewed sense of devastation, I drop my phone.

I need a glass of wine.

Screw that. I need something much, much stronger.

“Have you decided where to go?” the driver asks.

“Just…away.” I have no idea how much this will cost me, and suddenly I don’t care.

Damn it. Why had I not thought to grab my big purse?

This morning, I transferred essentials to my clutch. So I only have lipstick, mascara, a small amount of cash, and a single credit card, which is in Edward’s name. I’m not accustomed to spending someone else’s money, so I’ve only used it for wedding expenses and for emergencies. And what I saw in my hotel room definitely qualifies.

Jolting me, my phone rings.

My mom.

At some point, I’ll have to answer, so I decide to get it over with.

“Where are you?”

Since I have no intention of answering that question, I’m remain silent.

“You need to get back here immediately. Our guests are waiting.”

“There will be no wedding,” my voice is surprisingly calm, flat. Somehow, at least for now, I’m keeping my hysteria at bay.

“Look, Harper. You need to be reasonable.”

Surely she can’t know what happened, otherwise she would never make such an outrageous comment.