Kissed by the Killer

Prologue: The Frantic Flight.

Violet Virgilson.

Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. My wedding day. The day every little girl dreams of - white dress, walking down the aisle, smiling faces, tears of joy, forever vows.

But for me? It felt like a slow death wrapped in silk and suffocated with perfume.

I stood in front of the hotel mirror, lips painted in nude rose, veil pinned to perfection, eyes hollow behind layers of mascara. The dress? Gorgeous. The location? Perfect. The groom? A monster. And my heart? Screaming.

I looked like a bride, but I felt like a caged bird.

Somebody save me from this hell, I whispered.

This hotel wasn't mine. It wasn't home. I practically lived with my mum, but Rudolpho insisted I stay close to the church. Said he didn't want "any drama" or "a late bride." God forbid I arrive at the altar two minutes late and ruin his grand spectacle. So I lodged at the most expensive hotel near the cathedral - all part of Rudolpho Ransom Reedson's master plan.

Mum wanted me to dress from home. She said it was tradition. She fought me on it, but I begged, cried, and persuaded until she gave in. I think part of her suspected the truth. Or maybe she was just tired.

God, I wished Dad was here.

He would've never let this happen.

When I was twelve, my dad picked me up from boarding school for the weekend. That day, we were driving home - laughing, singing along to some old-school Whitney Houston track. Then out of nowhere - BOOM.

A drunk driver, high on cocaine, came flying across the road and slammed into us. My father died instantly. I survived, but not without scars - physical and emotional. I've been bleeding in silence since.

And now, I was about to marry another crash.

Rudolpho Ransom Reedson. The kind of name that sounds like a royal curse. Rich. Handsome. Dangerous. His father was a feared mogul who raised him like a weapon. Love was weakness. Women were leverage. Control was power. Rudolpho didn't want a wife. He wanted a pet he could parade and punish. And I was supposed to say "I do" to that?

No. Hell no.

The church was packed. Cameras flashed. Vows echoed. The air was so thick, I could barely breathe.

Then came the moment.

The pastor smiled gently. "Do you, Violet Valley Virgilson, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband? To have and to hold, in riches and in-"

"No," I said.

Loud. Clear. Defiant.

Gasps. Chaos. My mother was so shocked, she almost fell off her chair. I didn't wait for the backlash - I turned and ran.

Yes, in my wedding dress. Full speed. Down the aisle, past the shocked choir, out the cathedral doors. Like a bride possessed. Or free.

I didn't have a plan. Just adrenaline. I ran like my life depended on it - because it did. I couldn't go home. I couldn't go back to the hotel room - I'd already checked out.

So I just... ran.

And that's when I collided with him.

Literally.

Tall. Fair. Muscular. Deep blue eyes. Leather jacket. He looked like sin himself - trouble dipped in sugar and dusted with mystery.

I slammed into his chest and stumbled. He caught me, eyes narrowing.

"You okay?" he asked, voice deep, smooth, dangerous.

I looked up at him, panting. "I-I need help. Someone's after my life."

He raised a brow. "You're in a wedding dress. Did you murder the groom or just ditch him at the altar?"