Chapter 2Vow of the Vane: Eight Years of Lies, One Lifetime of Power

I was about to sleep when I got a text from Jax.

A simple line: Hey, can you bring some stomach meds over? Preston’s dying here.

Preston doesn't have stomach issues. Neither does Jax.

Based on what I’d heard in the video, it wasn't hard to guess what was really happening. I didn't know if Jax sent that because Preston asked him to, or if it was a trap.

When I arrived at the club, I leaned against my car for a long time. My legs were numb by the time I finally found the courage to walk inside.

I definitely picked the wrong moment to enter.

Preston was down on one knee. "Misty, I truly love you."

"Misty, will you marry me?"

"Misty, I want you to be mine forever."

The love in his eyes was overflowing. Misty stood across from him, hands over her mouth in shock. She was beautiful—the exact kind of "innocent but sexy" girl that was Preston’s ultimate weakness.

"Preston... yes! Yes, I will!"

Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face.

The ring wasn't the centerpiece. It was my mother’s heirloom necklace they were using as a "promise gift."

Preston, you really are a piece of work.

The two of them kissed under the spotlight. A perfect couple. A beautiful scene.

Except, out of the dozen people in the room—some drinking, some smoking, some on their phones—not a single person clapped.

Preston noticed. His expression soured. "What’s wrong with you guys? Cheer!"

His friends all looked down, suddenly very busy with their drinks. Preston scanned the room, his eyes turning cold.

"You're proposing to her? What about Claire?" Jax asked, breaking the silence.

Preston licked his lips and patted Jax on the shoulder with a smirk. "Jax, do you even know what it feels like to have your heart skip a beat?"

"Claire has been with you for eight years, man."

"Shh..." Preston hushed him. "Don't ruin the mood. For the last eight years, I was blind. I thought that was love. But after meeting Misty, I finally know what real passion is. I’d give her the world! But Claire?"

He looked around, trying to justify himself to the group.

"Claire is high-born, wealthy. She doesn't need 'saving.' But Misty? Misty only has me. Do you get it?"

"Every time I go home and see Claire’s face, I just feel... bored."

"Sure, Claire is 'good.' But she’s not the one I want to marry."

Silence. No one backed him up.

"Preston... maybe we should just... forget the cheers... it's okay," Misty whispered.

Crash!

Preston smashed a glass on the floor. "I said, cheer!"

Normally, when Preston lost his temper, everyone backed off. But this time, no one moved.

I felt a strange sense of irony. Eight years ago, none of them liked us together. They hated me, the "spoiled rich girl," and told Preston to dump me.

Eight years later, they all saw me as family. Everyone except Preston.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

I clapped three times, slowly.

All eyes snapped to me. Preston’s pupils shrank; panic flickered across his face.

"You... what are you doing here?"

Then, his face hardened. "Who told her to come?"

I walked up to him. Misty immediately stepped in front of Preston, arms spread as if to "protect" him. She looked terrified, yet "brave." Every man's hero fantasy.

"Claire, I'm so sorry, it’s all my fault... please don't blame him..."

I reached out and snatched the necklace from around her neck.

"Preston, didn't anyone ever tell you? Proposing with a dead woman’s jewelry never ends well."