Zeke wanted to flee.
He wanted to leap over the velvet bank ropes, elbow past the glass doors, and sprint into the safety of downtown traffic just to escape the human equivalent of an unpaid karma invoice currently standing three feet away from him.
Evarielle—Eva, the evil of a woman. The reason everything spiraled into its current glorious mess.
Zeke had spent the last few weeks pretending the whole disaster hadn't started with Eva drugging her own sister with nothing but alcohol, drawing up a contract so criminally manipulative it belonged in a museum of extortion, and somehow strong-arming Ava into marrying him, the great Zekeriah Sinful Ford, in her place.
It was, frankly, insulting.
But to be fair… he hadn't exactly fought back.
Eva wanted a shot at Zach. He wanted a shot at Ava. So naturally, they both… threw their siblings into the arena like a pair of legally adult toddlers dodging real responsibility, thinking that they would end up with each other's sibling.
