I turned my head slowly, my gaze landing on Duke, who was still standing near the altar, watching me with a gaze that was impossible to decipher. His posture remained relaxed, unaffected by the uproar outside.
As if this was nothing new.
As if he had expected this.
A sick feeling twisted in my stomach.
Before I could press for more answers, the doors of the church shook violently as something banged against them from the outside. Guests gasped, some already rushing toward the exits. Security guards shouted orders, their guns drawn as they pushed back against the crowd.
"We need to leave," my father said urgently.
I barely turned to face him before another familiar hand wrapped around my wrist.
Duke.
"We're going to the rooftop," he said simply.
I stared at him, my mind still reeling. "Duke, are you even going to explain what's happening? Why are people saying you—"
"It doesn't matter right now." His grip tightened slightly. "You're my wife now. That means your safety comes first."
I didn’t get the chance to argue.