Chapter 18 · The Bride in the Coffin

Vivian woke up in the dark.

Not the kind of dark where your eyes adjust after a minute. The kind that pressed in from all sides, thick and absolute, like someone had stuffed cotton into her skull. She tried to move her hand and her knuckles hit wood an inch above her face.

Panic kicked in. She shoved upward and the surface didn't budge. Her breath came fast, too fast, and the air already tasted stale. She turned her head and her cheek scraped against satin lining.

A coffin.

She was in a coffin.

She kicked at the bottom. The wood was solid, old, the kind that didn't splinter easy. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears and she forced herself to stop thrashing because the air was already running thin and she couldn't afford to waste it screaming.

Think. Think.

Lucas had bitten her. She remembered that much. The burn of his fangs sinking in, Cyrus standing over them with that pleased expression like he'd just closed a business deal. Then nothing.