Alyssa barely made it two steps down the aisle before Preston lunged.

He moved like a wild animal, his face twisted in panic and fury. He blocked her path, his hand shooting out to grab the phone she still held.

"Give me that!" he snarled, the veins in his neck bulging.

Alyssa sidestepped him. She grabbed a crystal flute of champagne from a stunned waiter's tray and threw the liquid directly into Preston's eyes.

Preston cursed, stumbling backward and clawing at his burning eyes. The guests in the front row openly laughed at his pathetic state.

Khloe rushed forward. She had dropped her hands, her face now twisted into a mask of desperate innocence. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

She held a glass of water, her hands trembling. "Alyssa, please, it's a misunderstanding! You're hysterical. Drink this, please calm down."

Khloe stepped directly in front of Alyssa, using her body to block the guests' view. Alyssa stared at her stepsister's fake tears. Her stomach churned with disgust. She raised her hand and slapped the glass away. The crystal shattered against the marble floor.

But Khloe didn't back down. She pulled a delicate lace handkerchief from her bridesmaid dress, stepping even closer. "You're sweating, you're not well," Khloe cooed, pressing the cloth suddenly and forcefully against Alyssa's nose and mouth.

A sharp, chemical sweetness invaded Alyssa's airways before she could jerk her head away.

In that exact second, two massive men in black suits flanked her.

Brenda stood behind them, her eyes cold. She gave them a sharp nod.

The bodyguards grabbed Alyssa's arms, their grips like iron vices.

"Let go of me!" Alyssa screamed, thrashing against them.

Brenda grabbed the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse us. The bride is suffering a severe pre-wedding breakdown. We are taking her to get medical help."

The guests murmured, exchanging uncomfortable glances, but no one stepped forward. It was a family matter.

Alyssa lifted her heel to stomp on the bodyguard's foot, but the room suddenly tilted.

A violent wave of dizziness crashed into her. Her vision doubled. The strength drained from her legs.

The drug on the handkerchief. It was terrifyingly fast.

The bodyguards tightened their hold, practically carrying her dead weight out of the ballroom doors.

They dragged her down a quiet hallway and threw her into a dimly lit, soundproof holding room.

Alyssa hit the carpet hard. Her shoulder throbbed, but her muscles refused to obey her brain. She couldn't push herself up.

The door clicked shut. Preston, Khloe, and Brenda stood over her. The masks were completely gone.

Preston wiped the sticky champagne from his face. He stepped forward and kicked Alyssa hard in the ribs. "You ruined me, you crazy bitch."

Alyssa groaned, curling into a ball as pain flared through her side.

Khloe crouched down. She dragged her sharp acrylic nail down Alyssa's cheek. "You always thought you were so smart."

"Enough," Brenda snapped. "Since she won't sign the papers, we have to liquidate her another way."

Alyssa fought to keep her eyes open. The room was spinning.

Brenda pulled out her phone and dialed a number. "Yes. The Strickland family. We accept the offer to clear the debt. Ten million. Send the transport."

Alyssa's eyes widened in pure horror.

Strickland.

Everyone in the city knew that name. It was a monster's den.

Brenda hung up and looked down at Alyssa with a cold smile. "You belong to the madman of the East Wing now. Have a nice honeymoon."

Preston's eyes gleamed with greed. He didn't look at Alyssa with an ounce of pity.

The drug pulled Alyssa under. Her breathing grew shallow. Her eyelids fluttered shut.

Just before the darkness took her completely, she bit the tip of her tongue, letting the sharp pain brand the hatred into her brain.

The door opened again. The bodyguards walked in carrying a massive, heavy-duty black canvas duffel bag.

They shoved Alyssa's limp body inside.

The harsh sound of the zipper closing echoed in the quiet room, plunging Alyssa into total darkness.

The bodyguard threw the bag over his shoulder and carried her out through the hotel's freight elevator.

Alyssa lost consciousness entirely, the vibrations of the elevator pulling her down into the abyss.

A violent jolt sent a shockwave through Alyssa's spine.

She gasped, her eyes flying open into pitch blackness. The canvas bag smelled of dust and industrial fabric. She was lying on the cold, vibrating metal floor of a moving van.

Her limbs felt like lead. The drug still coated her brain in a thick fog.

The van slammed on its brakes. Alyssa slid across the metal floor, her head cracking hard against the side panel. A sharp ringing pierced her ears.

Outside, heavy iron gates groaned open. The aggressive barking of guard dogs echoed through the night air.

The back doors of the van were ripped open. Cold night wind rushed in.

Rough hands grabbed the canvas bag and unzipped it. Two men dragged her out by her arms.

Blinding security lights hit her face. Alyssa squinted, her vision blurry. Looming ahead was a massive, terrifying gothic estate. Its sharp spires cut into the black sky.

A stern man in a black suit—the butler—stood on the gravel. He was tall and gaunt, with a hard, angular face and eyes that held no warmth. He looked down at her ruined wedding dress with absolute disgust.

He flicked his wrist.

Two thick-built maids stepped forward. They grabbed Alyssa under her armpits and dragged her toward the house.

Alyssa's feet dragged over the gravel, then over polished hardwood. They pulled her down a long, freezing corridor. The antique wall sconces flickered with yellow light. The air smelled of old wood and strong chemical preservatives.

They stopped in front of a heavy oak door wrapped in a thick iron chain.

The butler pulled a rusted brass key from his pocket. The sound of the key turning in the lock was deafening in the silent hallway.

The door groaned open. A blast of freezing air hit Alyssa's face.

The maids shoved her hard. Alyssa tripped over her heavy skirt and fell onto the dusty carpet inside.

The door slammed shut behind her. The heavy lock clicked into place.

Alyssa pushed herself up onto her elbows, her chest heaving. Pale moonlight bled through the windows. The windows were bolted shut with thick iron bars, the glass panes intact.

The room was massive and decaying. The furniture was covered in white sheets.

As her mind raced, a chilling memory surfaced. While she was being dragged down the freezing corridor, her head lolling against her chest, she had faintly heard the two maids whispering, completely convinced she was unconscious.

"Another one for the Beast of the East Wing," one maid had muttered. "Master Kenny is going to tear her apart."

"The last bride they threw in there lasted three days," the other had replied, her voice trembling. "They carried her out covered in blood. Ever since the fire ruined his face, he just likes to hear them scream."

Alyssa's heart slammed against her ribs as the memory echoed in her mind. The words wrapped around her throat.

She forced herself to stand. Her legs shook violently. She rushed to the window and grabbed the iron bars, pulling with all her remaining strength. They didn't budge.

She ran to the door and pounded her fists against the thick wood. "Let me out! Help!"

Silence.

Panic clawed at her chest. She backed away from the door, retreating into the darkest corner of the room next to a massive wardrobe. She grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from a side table, gripping it with white knuckles.

Then, a sound came from the opposite wall.

A slow, agonizing scratching. Like nails dragging across hardwood.

Alyssa stopped breathing. She pressed her back against the wall.

A hidden door in the paneling slowly pushed open. The hinges shrieked.

A heavy, suffocating scent flooded the room. Cuban cigars mixed with the sharp, sterile sting of medical alcohol.

A massive shadow stepped through the hidden door. The man was huge, his shoulders blocking out the faint light from the passage behind him.

He let out a low, ragged breath. It sounded like an animal in agonizing pain.

Alyssa's hands shook so hard the candlestick rattled. The madman. Kenny.

The shadow slowly turned his head. Even in the darkness, she could feel his eyes lock onto her corner.

He had found his prey.