Chapter 124
Elena's POV
The dressing room felt like a pressure cooker about to explode.
I stood frozen in the center of the chaos—wedding coordinators barking into headsets, Isabella's secretary frantically dialing numbers, Vance family assistants clustered near the door whispering in tight, urgent tones. The air smelled like hairspray and anxiety.
Forty-five minutes until the ceremony. No groom.
My phone screen lit up again: Call in progress.
I pressed redial. Same message.
"Maybe he's just—handling something urgent?" Lila's hand found mine, her grip warm against my cold fingers. Her voice carried forced optimism that didn't reach her eyes.
I shook my head slowly. The blush couldn't hide how pale I'd gone. "He was on the phone with Scarlett just now."
The words tasted like ash.
Lila's fingers tightened. "Elena—"
"Pull the security footage." Isabella's voice cut through the room like a blade. She stood near the window, phone pressed to her ear, spine rigid. "I want to know where Damon is. Ten minutes. No more than ten minutes."
Her tone brooked no argument.
My stomach dropped.
The door burst open. Marcus filled the doorway, his face appearing on the video call screen one of the coordinators thrust forward. "Where are the guards?! I had people watching him!"
Isabella's composure cracked. Her voice trembled—just slightly, but enough. "Elena said Damon resented the surveillance. I thought—I trusted her judgment."
Every eye in the room swiveled toward me.
The silence was suffocating. Judgment without words, heavy as hands around my throat. My fingertips went numb.
I wanted to disappear into the cream-colored wallpaper.
"Find him," Marcus snapped through the speaker. "Now."
---
The door slammed open again. My father stormed in, my mother trailing behind with the careful steps of someone navigating a minefield.
Donald's hand clamped around my upper arm. Hard enough to bruise. "What the hell are you doing?! Damon goes to call that woman and you just let him?!"
"Donald—" My mother reached for him, but he shook her off.
"Shut up!" His face flushed red. "Look what you've taught our daughter! She can't even keep her own fiancé!"
Heat flooded my face—not from anger, but from shame. From the weight of disappointing everyone. Again.
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Isabella turned from the window, her expression carved from ice. When she spoke, her voice was soft. Deadly soft.
"I thought you were sensible, Elena." She took three measured steps toward me. "I removed the security detail because you told me Damon needed freedom. That if we showed trust, he'd cooperate."
I couldn't meet her eyes.
"And now?" She gestured vaguely toward the chaos around us. "He's gone. The ceremony can't proceed. The Vance family will be humiliated in front of every prominent pack in the region."
Her voice dropped lower. Colder.
"Do you understand what it means to break a blood pact, Elena? The curse doesn't just fall on one family. It falls on both."
My lungs forgot how to work.
Marcus's voice rang out again, cutting through the rising panic. "Everyone, quiet. Fighting won't solve anything."
The room fell silent.
"Isabella—go stabilize Dad. His heart can't take this kind of stress." Marcus's image on the screen shifted as he moved. "Donald, Vivian—the banquet hall. Calm the guests. Tell them the groom had an emergency. Ceremony delayed thirty minutes."
My mother started to protest, but Marcus continued over her.
"Security footage shows Damon was last seen in the underground garage. He left in that blue supercar." A pause. "I've already sent people after him."
The call ended. The coordinator's phone screen went dark.
One by one, they filed out. Isabella with her phone already at her ear. My parents toward the banquet hall, my father's hand finally releasing my arm.
The door clicked shut.
Only Lila and I remained.
She immediately turned to me, both hands gripping my shoulders. "Elena, listen to me—"
"Don't." My voice sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater. "Please, Lila. Don't."
"This isn't your fault," her eyes reddened. "Damn it, Elena, you look like you're about to—"
"I just need to be alone for a bit." I interrupted her, gentle but firm. "Just for a bit."
Lila's fingers tightened on my shoulders, then released. She looked like she wanted to argue, her lips trembling, but finally just nodded.
Her voice came out tight. "If you—if you need anything—"
"I know."
She paused at the door, looking back at me. "Elena—"
"Go."
The door closed again, this time softly.
Silence rushed in like water filling a drowning person's lungs.
I stood alone in the dressing room, wearing a dress I hadn't chosen, preparing for a ceremony I'd never wanted.
My phone sat on the vanity. Screen dark. No missed calls. No messages.
I picked it up. Dialed Damon's number one more time.
"The number you have called is currently on another line—"
I hung up.
Stared at my reflection in the mirror.
The girl looking back wore perfect makeup.
She looked like a bride.
She looked like a stranger.
"I was never really here," I thought distantly. "I was never the person in this mirror."
I stood. Slipped off the painful heels—custom-dyed to match the dress. The carpet felt soft under my bare feet.
Crossed to the door.
Pushed it open.
The hallway stretched before me, empty and eerily quiet. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see the banquet hall—hundreds of guests in formal attire, champagne flutes catching the light, low murmurs of conversation.
I heard fragments as I passed:
"...groom still hasn't arrived..."
"...heard it was an emergency..."
"...you don't think he's backing out, do you?"
I kept walking.
Found the elevators. Pressed the button.
The doors slid open with a soft chime.
I stepped inside. Stared at the panel of floor numbers.
My finger hovered over "L" for Lobby.
Then moved up.
Pressed "R."
Roof.
The elevator hummed as it began to rise. 18... 19... 20...
I leaned against the cold mirrored wall, watching the numbers climb.
My father's voice echoed in my head: "You're useless. The only value you have—"
Isabella's cold assessment: "Do you understand what it means to break a blood pact?"
Damon's phone: Call in progress. Call in progress. Call in progress.
"I can't breathe," I thought. "I need air. Just... air."
The elevator slowed. Stopped.
R.
The doors opened.