MARRY YOUR KILLER
Chapter Fifteen: The Engagement
---
The day arrived gray and heavy, the sky low over Manila, the air thick with coming rain. Jay stood in front of the mirror in Keifer's guest room, a white dress hanging loose on her body, her mother's pearls cold against her throat. Her bruises had faded to yellow and green. The stitches on her lip were gone, leaving a thin scar that would stay forever. She touched it with her fingers. A reminder. A promise.
Her mother had sent the dress the night before, delivered by a driver who wouldn't meet her eyes. No note. No call. Just the dress in a white box, tissue paper and silk, the dress she was supposed to wear to announce her engagement to a man she didn't love.
She didn't love him.
She said it to herself like a prayer. Like a warning. She didn't love him. She was doing this for her family. For the war. For the truth that was finally, finally in front of her.
She didn't love him.
The door opened. Ci N stood in the doorway, his hair brushed, his shirt ironed, his face pale. He was wearing a suit. She had never seen him in a suit. He looked twelve years old.
"You look terrible," he said.
"Thank you."
"The dress is nice. The face is terrible. The scar is good, though. Very mysterious. Very dangerous."
She almost smiled. "You look like you're going to your own funeral."
"I feel like I'm going to your funeral."
He walked to her. He stood beside her in the mirror. He was shorter than her. He always would be. But his shoulders were wider now. His jaw was sharper. He wasn't a child anymore.
"You don't have to do this," he said.
"I do."
"You could run. We could run. All of us. We could go somewhere they'd never find us."
She looked at him. "You would leave?"
He met her eyes. "For you? Yes."
She reached out. She touched his face. His skin was warm. His eyes were wet.
"I can't run," she said. "This is my family. This is my war."
"Then let me fight with you."
"You are fighting with me."
He leaned into her hand. Just for a moment. Just enough for her to feel how scared he was.
"I don't want to lose you," he said.
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
She pulled him close. She held him. He was so small. So young. The boy who had followed her into every fight, who had never once been afraid, who loved her more than anyone in the world.
"You won't lose me," she said again.
He held on. He didn't let go.
---
The cars arrived at eleven.
Keifer was waiting in the driveway. His suit was black, his hair was neat, his face was calm. He looked like a man who had done this a hundred times. He looked like a man who felt nothing.
Cole stood beside him, adjusting his tie, checking his phone. Alex was in the back, arguing with someone on the phone in rapid Korean. Percy was leaning against the car, watching the house, his face unreadable. Aries was beside him, still, silent, waiting. Yuri stood apart, his red hair bright against the gray sky, his face cold.
"She's coming," Percy said.
Keifer didn't answer. He was watching the door. His hands were in his pockets. His face was calm. Inside, something was twisting. Something he had been trying to ignore for weeks.
He didn't love her.
He said it to himself like a prayer. Like a warning. He didn't love her. This was a transaction. An alliance. A way to end a war that had taken everything from both their families.
He didn't love her.
The door opened.
Jay stepped out. Her dress was white, simple, the kind of dress that didn't need to announce itself. Her hair was pinned up, her neck bare except for her mother's pearls, her face turned toward the gray sky like she was waiting for something.
She looked at him. Across the driveway. Across the space between them. Her face was calm. Her eyes were not.
He walked to her. His steps were steady. His hands were steady. His heart was not.
"You look beautiful," he said.
She looked at him. Her eyes moved across his face, his suit, his hands. She saw the cut he hadn't bothered to bandage. She saw the exhaustion he was trying to hide.
"You look tired," she said.
"I didn't sleep."
"Neither did I."
He offered his arm. She took it. Her hand was cold. Her fingers were steady.
"Together," he said.
She looked at him. "Together."
---
The ancestral home in Alabang was waiting.
Jay's mother had transformed it. Flowers everywhere. White and gold and the kind of perfection that came from months of planning. Months of pretending this was a celebration and not a transaction.
The cars pulled through the gates. The guards were everywhere, more than usual, their faces hard, their hands near their weapons. Jay's uncle had arranged that. For security, he said. For safety. Jay knew the truth. The guards weren't there to protect her. They were there to watch her.
Ci N was beside her in the car. His hand was in hers. His face was pale.
"My family is going to be there," he said.
"I know."
"My mother is going to cry."
"I know."
"She's going to ask when you're having children."
Jay looked at him. "Is she?"
"She's going to ask loudly. In front of everyone. She's going to say 'finally' and then she's going to cry."
Jay almost smiled. "Then you'll be there to catch her."
Ci N squeezed her hand. "I'll always be there."
---
The house was full.
Jay's mother was at the door, elegant in gold, her smile perfect, her eyes sharp. She kissed Jay's cheek. She took her hands. She looked at her face.
"The scar is new," her mother said.
"It's healing."
"It makes you look dangerous."
Jay looked at her mother. The woman who had raised her. The woman who had taught her to be still, to be silent, to be the daughter her father needed.
"I am dangerous, Ma," Jay said.
Her mother's smile flickered. Just for a moment. Something passed between them. Something that might have been pride.
"I know," her mother said.
---
The guests were everywhere. Businessmen. Politicians. Generals. The people who had been fighting the war for thirty years, gathered together to celebrate its end. Jay walked through them, Keifer beside her, her face calm, her smile polite. She saw her uncle across the room, laughing at something, his hand on someone's shoulder, his face warm. He looked like the man who had held her when she was a child. He looked like the man who had taught her to ride a bike. He looked like the man who had been trying to kill her for weeks.
She wanted to walk across the room and put her knife in his throat.
Keifer's hand tightened on hers. "Not yet," he said. His voice was low. Just for her.
She looked at him. His face was calm. His eyes were not.
"Not yet," she said.
---
The ceremony was short.
A judge. A table. A piece of paper that would bind their families together. Jay stood beside Keifer, her hand in his, her face turned toward the judge. She heard the words. Love. Honor. Cherish. She heard her voice saying words she didn't mean. She heard his voice saying the same.
She looked at him. His face was close. His eyes were dark. His hand was warm around hers.
I do.
She said it. The words came out of her mouth. They felt like nothing. They felt like everything.
He leaned forward. His lips touched her forehead. Soft. Brief. A kiss that meant nothing. A kiss that meant everything.
The room applauded.
Her uncle was smiling. Her mother was smiling. Ci N was crying.
Jay looked at Keifer. His face was calm. His eyes were not.
"Together," she said.
"Together," he said.
---
The reception was chaos.
Percy and Ci N found the bar. Felix found the food. Rakki found the dance floor. The house filled with music and laughter and the careful, practiced joy of people who had been pretending for so long they had forgotten how to stop.
Jay stood in the corner. Her corner. The one she had claimed the night the Watsons arrived. Keifer stood beside her. His hand was in hers. His shoulder was against hers.
"Your mother is looking at us," he said.
"I know."
"She's waiting for us to dance."
"She's waiting for a lot of things."
He looked at her. His face was close. His eyes were dark.
"Do you want to dance?"
She looked at the dance floor. At the couples moving together, their bodies close, their faces soft. At Percy spinning Ci N until they both fell over. At Alex trying to lead Lyra onto the floor. At Lyra's face, cold and blank, until Alex said something that made her almost smile.
"No," Jay said.
"Good. Neither do I."
They stood together. Watching. Waiting.
---
Alex had finally gotten Lyra onto the dance floor.
It wasn't dancing. It was standing. He stood in front of her, his hands on her waist, her hands on his shoulders, neither of them moving.
"This is dancing," he said.
"No, it's not."
"It's slow dancing."
"It's standing."
"Standing romantically."
She looked at him. Her face was blank. Her eyes were not.
"You're an idiot," she said.
"I know."
"This is not dancing."
"Then move."
She didn't move. He didn't move. They stood there, in the middle of the dance floor, while everyone danced around them.
"Kulkarni," he said.
"Don't say my name."
"Lyra Kulkarni."
"I will hurt you."
"You already tried."
She looked at him. Her eyes were sharp. Her hands were still on his shoulders.
"I wasn't trying," she said.
His hands tightened on her waist. Just a little.
"I know," he said.
They stood there for a long moment. Then she moved. Just a little. Just enough for it to be dancing.
Alex smiled.
"Kulkarni," he said again.
She didn't tell him to stop.
---
Care was sitting at a table, watching the dance floor. Cole sat beside her. He had been sitting beside her for an hour. He hadn't said anything. He hadn't moved.
"You're staring," Care said.
"I'm observing."
"Same thing."
"Observing is professional. Staring is personal."
She looked at him. "Which is this?"
He smiled. "I'm not sure yet."
She looked back at the dance floor. At Alex and Lyra, standing in the middle of everything, not moving, not leaving.
"She's going to hurt him," Care said.
"He doesn't care."
"Everyone cares."
Cole was quiet for a moment. Then he reached over. His hand touched hers on the table. Just his fingers. Just for a moment.
"Not everyone," he said.
Care looked at his hand. She didn't pull away. She didn't move closer. She just looked.
"You're annoying," she said.
"I know."
She turned her hand. Just a little. Just enough for her fingers to touch his.
"You're very annoying," she said.
"I know."
She didn't pull away.
---
Jay saw them all.
Her girls. His boys. The lines between them blurring into something she hadn't expected. Something she hadn't planned for.
Ci N was on the dance floor now, dancing with Felix, laughing, his face open, his eyes bright. Percy was beside them, his arms around both of them, his voice loud, his smile wide. Aries was watching, their face soft, their hands in their pockets. Yuri was in the corner, his arms crossed, his face cold. But his eyes were on Percy. They were always on Percy.
Freya was by the door, watching. Erdix was beside her. They weren't talking. They didn't need to.
Mica and Calix were at a table, their heads close together, their laptops open. They were working. They were always working. But Calix was laughing at something Mica said, and Mica wasn't telling him to stop.
Rakki was on the dance floor, pulling Mayo into a spin, both of them laughing. David was eating. He had been eating all night. No one knew where he put it. No one asked.
Grace was at the bar, her back to the wall, her eyes moving. Kit was beside her, talking about something that made Grace almost smile.
Ella was in the garden, standing alone, looking at the sky. Honey was on the line, somewhere in the world, watching through a camera that no one knew existed.
Her family. Her war. Her life.
Keifer's hand tightened on hers.
"You're thinking too loud," he said.
She looked at him. "I'm not thinking."
"You're always thinking."
She looked at their hands. His fingers were wrapped around hers. His skin was warm. His hand was steady.
"I'm not thinking," she said again.
He smiled. It was small. Tired. Real.
"Good," he said.
---
Her uncle found her at the end of the night.
He was smiling. His face was warm. His eyes were cold. He kissed her cheek. He held her hands. He looked like the man who had taught her to ride a bike.
"My beautiful niece," he said. "So happy. So loved."
Jay looked at him. Her face was calm. Her hands were still.
"Thank you, Tito," she said.
"For what?"
"For everything. For bringing us together. For ending the war. For giving me to the Watsons like I was nothing."
His smile flickered. Just for a moment.
"You're not nothing," he said.
"No. I'm not." She stepped closer. Her voice was low. Just for him. "I know about the weapons. I know about the Shadow Market. I know about the money. I know about the war. All of it. I know."
His face didn't change. His hands were still on hers.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
"Yes, you do." She smiled. It was the smile her mother had taught her. Polite. Distant. Deadly. "Sleep well, Tito. Tomorrow, we finish this."
She walked away. She didn't look back.
---
The night ended.
The guests left. The house emptied. The flowers wilted. The music stopped. Jay stood in the garden, her dress white against the dark, her mother's pearls cold against her throat.
Keifer found her there.
He stood beside her. His shoulder against hers. His hand in hers.
"Your uncle," he said. "You told him."
"I told him."
"He knows."
"He knows."
Keifer was quiet for a moment. Then he squeezed her hand.
"Tomorrow," he said.
"Tomorrow," she said.
She looked at him. The enemy. The stranger. The man she was supposed to marry. His face was tired. His eyes were dark. His hand was warm in hers.
She didn't love him. She said it to herself like a prayer. Like a warning.
But she didn't let go.
---
END OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN