Trio's Back

**POV: Elysia**

"Lyra!"

The familiar, bright shout cuts straight through my embarrassing coughing fit. I blink away the tears pricking the corners of my eyes and look up. Talia seemingly materializes from the sea of elite guests, sporting a massive, radiant smile on her face.

The humiliation of choking on my drink vanishes in a heartbeat. I hastily shove my cold, sweating glass right back into Tristan's chest. I do not even care that a few drops slosh over the rim and splash onto his suit jacket.

"Talia!" I squeal, my voice echoing a little too loudly over the polite chatter of the backyard party.

I scramble forward, walking as fast as I can in my high heels. I close the distance between us and throw my arms around her. I squeeze her tight, burying my face in her shoulder as she wraps her arms around my waist. We are basically inseparable sisters, and being apart from her these last few months has been pure torture. It feels like a piece of my soul has been missing.

"Oh my god, I have missed you so much," Talia says, hugging me tighter into her tiny frame. "It really is not the same without you around."

"I know," I chuckle, my heart swelling with joy. "I missed you too!"

I step back a little, keeping my grip on her hands so I can take a good, hard look at her. The moment my eyes scan her outfit, my jaw unhinges.

"Talia, you look amazing!" I gape.

She is wearing a breathtaking, long, flowy, old rose-colored gown. The strapless bodice is built like a structured corset, decorated with intricate silver patterns that cinch her tiny waist. The tight fit pushes up her already full breasts, putting a ridiculous amount of cleavage on full display. Her pitch-black hair is swept up into an elegant up-do, leaving a few loose strands perfectly framing her face. Her makeup is flawless. Light and dark brown shadows melt into a sharp cut crease, topped with a pink sparkly eyeshadow that makes her hazel eyes pop. She looks absolutely breathtaking.

Then, a distinct realization hits me. I recognize the stitching, the drape of the fabric, the signature silver lace detailing along the seams.

I gasp loudly. "Wait, I didn't know you asked my mom to make you a dress!"

My mother is a gifted designer who makes drop-dead gorgeous gowns. When we moved, she opened a small boutique. It blew up in no time. We had to expand the business, and now it is a well-known, high-end fashion shop called Katerina. She used her own name.

Talia winks at me. "Your mom really outdid herself with this dress. It is more than I could ever imagine."

"You kept this from me?" I squint at her, feigning betrayal.

Talia places a hand over her chest and squeezes my fingers with her other hand. "Yeah, well, I didn't want you to know because I wanted it to be a massive surprise. I love you so much, Lyra, but you fucking suck at keeping something like that a secret." She flashes me an innocent, teasing smile.

I open my mouth to defend myself, then immediately snap it shut. She is right. I am the exact type of person who buys a gift and instantly texts the person about it. I already ruined my own engagement gift surprise for her. Just days ago, I literally took a picture of the crystal champagne glasses I bought and texted her: *OMG these are so cute! I’m getting them for you.*

"Fair enough," I sulk, crossing my arms over my chest.

I look her up and down again, shaking my head. "But damn, look at you! That dress is so hot on you. Who are you getting your titties out for, huh?"

Talia puts her hands on her hips and wiggles her eyebrows at me. This is typical Talia. She is always inappropriate, no matter the situation or the setting we find ourselves in.

"I have a man now that I need to impress," she smirks, puffing her chest out just a fraction more. "So he knows what awaits him, if you know what I mean."

I roll my eyes with a sharp laugh. "Unlike you, my titties are staying covered. Much more than yours are, anyway."

The laughter fades from my lips as the reality of her words sinks in. The mention of her man hangs heavy in the air between us, a dark reminder of why this lavish party is even happening. My demeanor shifts to dead seriousness.

I turn my head, anxiously scanning the surrounding perimeter. I check the nearby clusters of people, making sure no mafia associates are standing within earshot. The coast is clear. I lean in, lowering my voice into a desperate, hushed whisper.

"Speaking of your man," I start, locking my eyes onto hers. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, Talia? You can always run away. I don't know, pick a direction and go. You know I will come with you."

I stare at her with a fierce, serious expression. I mean every single word. If she wants to flee to a different state or escape to a foreign country, I will drop my entire life without a second thought. I will pack a bag and go on the run with her tonight. She is my only family besides my mother, and I will do absolutely anything to make sure she stays safe.

Talia offers me a deeply sad, resigned smile that breaks my heart in two.

"You know I cannot do that," she murmurs, her tone laced with defeat. "He will hunt me down. He will definitely kill me if I ever even think about running away."

A cold chill spikes down my spine. The grim reality of her future husband's lethal nature stings.

"Besides," she continues, her voice tightening with desperation. "Anything will be better than living with him. I just have to get away. I need to breathe."

I hate the bitter truth ringing in her words, but I know she is right. Her father—my uncle—is an absolute maniac. If she does something minor and he finds it inappropriate, he lays his heavy hands on her. Once, her father came home from God knows where, heavily intoxicated on a lethal bender of alcohol and cocaine. He beat her half to death in a blind rage. If he had not passed out, she would not be standing in front of me today.

Deep down, I pray for vengeance. I hope one day someone drags my uncle into an alley and gives him the exact same brutal treatment. Amen.

Swallowing the thick knot of dread in my throat, I step forward and pull Talia into another fierce, protective hug.

"As long as you are happy, I am happy too," I assure her, giving her a small smile as we pull apart.

I need to break this heavy, suffocating atmosphere before I start crying. I square my shoulders and keep my face deadpan.

"Just remember," I say firmly. "No matter what happens, Pitbull has been there and done that."

Talia stops. She looks me dead in the eyes, her expression going blank.

"I swear to God, Elysia," she says, her voice flat and dangerous. "If you say that one more time, I will beat you up and make you eat your phone."

I stick my tongue out at her. The terrible joke works, and the tension finally shatters. I might use meme references too much to lighten the mood, but I get results.

"Are you two done catching up?"

A heavy arm suddenly slings around my shoulders, nearly knocking me off balance. Tristan leans his weight against me, jutting his bottom lip out in a massive, exaggerated pout.

"I am feeling all lonely out here by myself," he complains. Then, his face lights up with a bright grin. "Isn't this awesome? The childhood trio is finally reunited at last!"

I shake my head, swiftly brushing his heavy arm off my shoulders. "Get off. I did not spend all that time getting ready just for you to turn my hair into a tangled mess."

Tristan rolls his eyes and adjusts the lapels of his suit jacket.

Talia chuckles at our usual bickering. She turns her attention away from us, gesturing toward the far end of the sprawling lawn. A large, intimidating group of men stands near the stone patio. They are clad in dark, expensive suits, smoking thick cigars and drinking whatever their poison of choice happens to be.

"Come," Talia announces, her voice steady. "Let me introduce you to my soon-to-be husband."

I freeze. I follow her gaze, and I am instantly caught off guard. A spike of pure dread nails my feet to the grass. The dangerous mafia men are not just standing there. They are already staring directly at us. Their sharp, predatory gazes track our little trio from across the yard. There is nothing welcoming about them.

"Have fun with that," Tristan deadpans.

I whip my head around. Tristan is staring at the mobsters with a flat expression. He takes one look at the lethal group and checks out.

"Are you not coming with us?" I ask, my voice jumping a pitch. "Didn't you just say you were lonely standing by yourself?"

Tristan shoves his hands deep into his pockets and smiles down at me.

"Yeah, I am not that lonely," he says. "See ya!"

Before I can formulate a word to stop him, Tristan pivots on his heel and abandons us, vanishing straight into the crowd.

"Let's go," Talia says.

She grabs my hand. Her grip is tight, grounding me as my pulse kicks into overdrive. We turn away from the safety of the party and walk straight toward the observing mobsters. Every step forward feels like a countdown. We are walking directly into the lion's den. Oh boy.