Two hours later, freshly showered and dressed only in a white silk robe, I find I’m no longer alone in my room. Sydney is there. Of course she is. She is officially the best maid of honor in the world. Every last detail so far has been perfection. From the flower arrangements to set up, Sydney took care of everything. I’m able to breathe today, and I will forever be grateful.
“Morning,” Sydney greets me. “I hope you’re well rested.” The tone of her voice leads me to believe she is fishing to see if Preston came by last night.
“I am,” I mumble out looking down to the floor, with that Sydney laughs.
“I knew he’d never be able to resist.” She shrugs. “Okay, throw on some clothes so we can go and get your hair and makeup done. It’s time to get you ready for tonight.”
After being primped and primed, I slip into my dress. When I catch a glimpse in the mirror my breath leaves my body.
I’m gorgeous.
A dream.
A fairytale.
“Oh my god.” Sydney says from behind me and through the mirror I can see that her eyes are wide and start to glisten wit unshed tears. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. I feel beautiful.”
“Good, you deserve it. So, are you ready?” Sydney asks.
“Never been more ready for anything in my life.”
“I can't imagine.” She smiles at me, and I know she understands.
“Thank you for doing all this for me,” My voice cracks with emotion.
“Don't you dare cry,” Sydney says narrowing her eyes.
“I won't. I won't. But seriously, I don't know what I'd do without you. Without you and Preston . . .” I trail off.
“Eve,” she says taking my hand in hers. “You would have been okay. I promise even with out us, you would have been fine. You are the strongest person I have ever met. You single-handed took care of your mother for years. Look at her.” At her words, I look at my mom who's getting the final touches of her makeup done in the corner of the room. “When I first met you, this would never have been possible. She was a shell of a person. You were her lifeline her strength and now look. You helped heal her. You treated yourself. Sure there were a few bumps in the road.”
A laugh escapes my mouth. “A few?”
“Fine. A ton,” she laughs and I raise an eyebrow. “A shit ton. Better?”
“Yes. Much better,” I giggle back and she winks.
“Okay, where was I? The moral of the story is. You are amazing.”
“Oh, that was moral of the story? Seriously though. Thank you, Syd. You have done everything. You have handled the whole wedding, planning. Everything and I don't think you will ever understand how grateful I am.”
“You deserve it. And it was my pleasure. But enough of this sentimental stuff, if you smudge your makeup, she will kill you,” she says pointing to the makeup artist. “Or better yet she’ll just kill me.”
With each step, I walk into the future. With each step, any hesitation fades away. I'm finally getting everything I have ever hoped and dreamed of—love. Unconditional love. Heart pounding, soul-shattering love.
Preston Montgomery.
My future.
Any nerves I might have had slip away. A calm falls over me as I step through the door of the building and into the warm summer air. Beginning the walk down the aisle, I reminisce about how far I have come. The last time I walked down this path to where the earth overlooks the sea, we weren't supposed to be together. We had started down a path we couldn't continue. I’d thought our moments were fleeting, but now I know it's for eternity.
Finally, I reach the clearing, and I see all I ever hoped for standing on the edge of the cliff under a canopy of flowers.
Preston.
My Preston.
He looks at me with complete adoration as I make my way to where he stands. Sighs and gasps echo around me, but I don't look at anyone but him. I can't. I’m to lost in Preston. To lost in the knowledge that soon I will be his wife.
Once standing in front of him, he takes me in his arms and kisses me as though he's never kissed me before, as though I am his lifeline. And, in truth, that's what we are to each other. We are each other’s oxygen. Air. We need each other to breathe.
Words are spoken, but they fade away into the blue of his eyes into the conviction of his voice as he repeats his vows. Through tear-rimmed eyes, Preston takes my hand into his and promises to love and cherish me all the days of my life. His gaze is unwavering. His love is absolute.
We are creating something beautiful here.
A future.
NOTICE
K. WEBSTER
To the intense man who noticed me, claimed me, and never let go.
I love you, Matt.
My past has not defined me, destroyed me, deterred me; it has only strengthened me.
– Steve Maraboli.
WARNING
Notice is an edgy, dark, and unusual romance. Extreme sexual themes and violence in certain scenes, which could trigger emotional distress, are found in this story. If you are sensitive to dark themes, then this story is not for you. If you aren’t into super obsessive stalkers, then this story is not for you.
PROLOGUE
HAWK
February 24th, 1990
Eyes on the target.
Always.
I don’t have to watch my back because Bull has it.
Always.
Sniper and spotter.
Two best friends since the seventh grade.
“Target is heavily secured. On my command,” Gunny says in my earpiece.
I blink but don’t move from my position. I’m ready to put the 7.26 by 51 mm bullet in the skull of the Crown Prince’s most trusted advisor, Ahmed Hakim. A man whose ties with Saddam Hussein are so thick you’d need a chainsaw to cut through them. My target is enemy number two under Hussein. A traitor to the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia. On the United States’ and my own personal radar.
But the fucker is always hiding behind a wall of men. Armed and dangerous men. Five times over the past week, I’ve had eyes on the coward but have been told to stand down. The shot has to hit and eliminate the desired target. Injuring him would be considered a failure. Hakim has to die.
“That motherfucker hides behind the big guy every time. If we had the time, we could take out both. No sweat off my goddamn brow,” Bull murmurs. He chews on his gum but wisely remains quiet. The constant sound of his chewing is what helps keep me grounded. I can focus because of its consistent smack—a little trick we learned at the academy we both attended in high school. A year after graduation, and we still work better as a team than apart.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
I’m in position and have been for the past four and a half hours, long before people arrived for the ceremony where the Crown Prince is speaking. I’ve already established a good shooting position. Flat on my belly with my rifle pointed downrange at my target, I’m sighted in and ready to fire.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
A cool breeze skitters across the back of my neck. Sweat is trickling down the side of my temple, but I don’t dare move. Instead, I’m calculating the wind not just up here from my position on the top of an abandoned building, but also where my target is. The wind causes the black hair of a teen girl sitting on one of the chairs on stage to lift. She’s not just any girl—she’s the sixteen-year-old daughter of the Crown Prince. Despite Hakim being a pussy who hides behind the security, his eyes never leave the Crown Prince’s daughter. Adara. Pretty, young, vulnerable. Hakim clearly cares for her, and that’s saying something for the selfish prick.
Click.
I make an adjustment to the windage turret.
“Elevation?” Bull questions as if I’d forget. I never forget.
I double check the elevation turret, but it’s where it needs to be. Bull doesn’t require an answer. He knows how we work. When I’m in position, I don’t speak. I don’t move. I hardly fucking breathe. Any movement could affect my
shot. I’m the best goddamned sniper the Marine Corp has for a reason.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
The wind dies down, and I ignore the ache in my thighs. I have to piss but I’d just as soon take a leak in my pants before I moved. From my position on my belly with my legs spread apart to absorb the recoil of my shot, I always become uncomfortable.
And yet, I still don’t move.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
My thighs tingle and my shoulders ache, but I tune it out.
Focus.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
“Ceremony begins at thirteen hundred hours,” Gunny reminds us all. “Nobody blinks until I say they can.” The dig is at me. Gunny hates that I came straight from the academy and earned myself a Lance Corporal position despite being eighteen. I’ve since been promoted to an E-5 Sergeant at the young age of nineteen. I’m disciplined, hard-working, and an extremely skilled sniper thanks to Dad’s insistence I attend military school at Hargrave Military Academy since I was thirteen. Gunny can kiss my ass.
My hold is firm on the pistol grip but my thumb is loose. Another drop of sweat rolls down my forehead and my heart does a patter as it nears my eyebrow.