Noa didn’t breathe.

Couldn’t.

The man at the altar stood perfectly still, hands folded in front of him, expression unreadable. His suit was crisp, pale grey like morning mist. Everything about him was neat. Sharp. Clean-cut. Except his eyes.

His eyes were chaotic.

“Noa,” Alessio’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. “I told you I’d show you the monster beneath.”

Noa couldn’t move. His knees locked. His breath was shallow. The space between them between him and the man by the ...