wildfire

Grace: I don't know many people who would know what it's like but I know exactly how you feel.

Grace: We'll make them pay, Julia.

Grace: Fletcher! Reply.

Grace: HOW the fuck did this happen?

The words were a shock, and the name even more so. She gaped at him for a few moments, trying to comprehend what he was saying. Kate? Kate Montgomery? The blond giant? His questions were rapid afterwards, and she was entirely confused and inundated, and wasn’t sure what to say. The immediate response was to lie, and somehow she felt a stab of guilt thinking about it. It wouldn’t do, this wasn’t her place to say anything, and she knew that she had to be careful. “Kate? Kate’s dead?” She uttered the words, almost not believing him, trying to ignore the questions posed. “Fletcher, my brother, we’ve both been training,” it wasn’t a complete lie. “Ever since our parents,” she didn’t fill in the blank, unable to say the words. “We’ve been on high alert, surely you fathom what protecting yourself looks like,” her voice was growing clipped and shirty and she didn’t mean to take it out on him, standing up after removing the remnants of the cut rope. “We have to get out of here. And thank you,” she paused for a moment as she turned to the door, and extended a hand. “Are you okay? What happened to your knee?” 

There was something so incredibly humiliating about the whole situation, and she was struggling against the ties binding her wrist. What did Fletcher say about panicking? Something about trying to even the breath, or something, and she tried, in vain it felt like, to try to even out the breathing, but the rope was tight, and her arms pulled behind her were taut, stopping her from being able to even her breaths. It was hard to breath with the the gag stuffed into her mouth, and as she struggled for what felt like the better part of hours, she finally heard the telltale sound of doors opening and closing, as if someone were checking. Whoever she expected, it definitely wasn’t Ethan. When the gag was pulled from her, she heaved deep breaths into her lungs, before shaking her head. “I heard a shot, I have no fucking idea,” she lied through her teeth in between her pants for breath and her seething anger, having heard the most of the Volkov’s little speech. “Right leg, Ethan,” she tried to move it, as if that would somehow help. “There’s a, uh, a knife.” 

Grace: What the fuck WHAT THE FUCK

About to turn and perhaps curse out whoever had intruded upon her little moment of peace and reprieve from the rest of the wedding, and visibly relaxed upon seeing who it was. A small smirk graced her lips as she looked around at the vehicles. “I dunno, but the newly rich are the ones driving around in ostentatious Lamborghini's and whatever else, but the real value is in that Maybach over there,” she nodded towards the car she mentioned and then shrugged before turning towards him with a grin. “Stop it, you know I hate this. I don’t think I’ve ever worn heels for this long in my life, it’s a real pain, I think my little toe is about to fall off. How do people do this?” She couldn’t help complimenting him back. “You know Will, you’ve always managed to clean up pretty well in a suit.” 

It was quite endearing to hear the missive from Fletcher, and though she’d heard the threats often enough, it still created a swell in her chest some sort of emotion that seemed eternally reserved for her little brother. Her little no-so-little brother. The kid who trailed hopelessly after her and their father on their hunting trips. The kid who had stars in his eyes the first time their father had taken a car apart and put it back together, to turn that key in the ignition to see that the engine ran even better. And the kid that now seemed to be not only teaching her a thing or two, but was now on par with her in terms of looking out for the remainder of the Williams legacy. Throughout their training sessions, she’d thought of the words hundreds if not thousands of times, of trying to make sure he knew just how important he was to her, but they never seemed to come, and she decided that it just wasn’t what they did. They were Williams. They threw punches first, asked questions later, and hoped that their actions spoke for them. “Watch out, them’s fighting words, Fletchy, I want a case if I ever land you on your ass,” she brandished a finger at him and then nodded in understanding. “Ah, Rosa.” She couldn’t help the eyeroll. “Well pardon me for not being able to recognise another one of your many friends from the back. God, Fletch, the world doesn’t really revolve around you, you know? Surprised you could fit down the hallways with your head inflated beyond repair,” she snickered, and then shook her head. “Hey, I’m on strict bridesmaid duties, I didn’t bring a date. Plus, I think there are enough people here to see me dressed like this,” she gestured in the general direction of her hair and face. “Dad would roll in his grave if he knew what had become of his tomboy daughter,” it was only a joke, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she wished that she hadn’t spoken them, teeth grit for a moment before downing the drink.

That off feeling that had existed since the morning was only deferrable by alcohol, and though she could somewhat skate beneath detection, it didn’t seem like it would be all that likely that she’d be able to for long. Not when the ceremony was due to start, and they were calling for photographs. She’d never been photographed so many times within a day, and as exhausting as it was to plaster a somewhat awkward smile as she stood next to the rest of the wedding party, even Isabella Marino or Kate Montgomery’s usually cheeriness couldn’t seem to make her feel any less awkward. Slipping away for a moment, she made her way towards the bar, dodging eye contact. It wasn’t until she was there that a slightly familiar figure caught her attention, and she sidled up beside him with her drink. “Hey, not that it’s any of my business, but your truck has a faulty injector, I could hear it misfiring as you pulled into the carpark. You should get that looked at before you need to replace them all.”

“I’m surprised you asked me to help with makeup, I’m basically useless,” she quipped from the stool by the makeup table, a champagne flute in one hand, her tiny almost useless purse thing in the other, and a spare flute of champagne on the table. “And since I’m under strict instructions not to produce too much alcohol for you, I’m not sure I can do anything but distract you. The cake, by the way, looks amazing. You were worried for nothing.”

“I’m Grace, bridesmaid, nice to meet you,” she was all grins and a comforting smile that she hoped put the other at ease. “I was pretty surprised to see someone showing up with Phillip. You two serious?”

“Alright, Mr Popular, we get it,” she couldn’t help the slight jest, but folded herself into the seat next to him. “I’ve already been asked to dance by a few friendly uncles, and one not so friendly uncle with wandering hands,” she grimaced at the memory, and had made her excuses for a quick getaway. “The ladies do love you though, Kieran, it must be that cute little puppy dog smile of yours,” she perhaps only teasing, and as she reached for a drink that a passing waiter had brought, she observed him with a bemused expression. “Me? This is so beyond my usual fashion choices, and the fact that this isn’t something covered in engine oil right now is actually making me a little panicky,” she chuckled before taking a small sip of the champagne. “But I thank you for the compliment. And you look dashing in that little suit of yours. Here, I’ll make you a deal, I’ll keep you from any more dance partners if you’ll sneak me some food later. Every time I sit down to eat, someone else comes to talk and the plates end up being cleared. It’s a travesty.” 

For someone so used to blending into the background, of being that proverbial wallflower, and remained shrouded to observe, throwing her in front of a crowd of hundreds had her feeling on edge. It was a normal response, she had to keep reminding herself, and even after breakfast with William, she still wasn’t able to stave off most of the nerves that had resided in the bottom of her stomach. But it was the sound of the familiar voice that eased her, and throughout the ceremony, she knew that he was there, and that perhaps nothing completely terrible would befall either of them when they were together. Perhaps. Of course, the possibility was always there. With her back against a particularly extravagant floral arrangement, she faced her brother with a small smile. “You know, you should count yourself lucky, no one else gets to call me Gracie and not get a wrench thrown at their head,” she reached for the flask eagerly, and picked up the drink that had been passed across the bar to her a moment prior to her making her way to the desserts. She poured a generous amount of the liquid into her own glass, handing it back to him. “You might want to shut your mouth before I shut it for you, kiddo,” she scoffed after sending him a look, but she knew that he’d be able to tell that it was all playful. “So, who did you come with? I saw the back of a head. Tsk tsk, not even an introduction to your sister?” 

the marchand nuptials ft. grace williams + @williamxwalker + @montgomeryjulia