C2 Chapter Two

It’s chaos, and everyone would be stampeding out the doors if they weren’t guarded by men wielding guns. There’s nowhere to go. We’re trapped, and Henrico’s brothers lay dead on the steps just beneath me. Wiped out.

The screams somehow pull me back to reality, to the present. They send a shock through me, and I realize I haven’t been breathing. My knees threaten to give again as I take in the barbaric enormity of what’s happened in a mere fraction of a moment as I gasp in a breath.

But my eye is drawn up and away from the carnage. A man is striding down the center aisle, his gaze on me. Pale eyes, dark hair- he’s wearing a tux with a red rose in his lapel, a gun in one of his hands. It’s strange what you notice in life-or-death situations, I suppose. Because I focus on the rose, on the tiny bit of beauty that catches my eye. Not on the groomsmen who lie in pools of blood or my intended who weakly tries to crawl away.

I look at the rose as it comes closer, as the man who’s wearing it climbs the steps and aims his gun at Henrico, then pulls the trigger two times. It makes the same pop sound I heard earlier.

The guests scream again, their screeches echoing around the beautiful cathedral and bouncing off the gilt ceiling tiles and the Byzantine fresco of Mary.

Still, I look at the rose. Maybe because I want to see something beautiful right before I die, before a bullet rips through me the same way it did through Henrico. Will the man with the rose shoot me several times to make sure I’m dead, the same way he did to my groom? I swallow hard, my tongue thick and my ears ringing. Even so, I keep my eyes on the silky petals, the edges of them darker than the center. Maybe it’s better this way. It was only last night I was thinking of doing it myself to escape this day. My life was going to be over the moment the vows were finished, so why not end it sooner? But now, now I realize I don’t want to die. It doesn’t matter though, because I no longer have a choice.

“Father Illio. Up!” The man bangs on the lectern. “Let’s go!”

The hat rises almost comically behind the polished wood until the frightened old man’s eyes appear. They widen when they see the man with the rose.

“M-Ma-Massimo?” he asks.

“I’m here for the wedding.” The man takes my hand. “Let’s get on with it.”

He holsters his gun and turns to glare at me, his eyes narrowing. “I’d like to get a look at my bride before we seal the deal.” He reaches for my veil.

“Stop!” my father bellows.

The man-Massimo - turns and looks at him. “I’ll double Massimo’s bride price.” He says it so easily, as if he’s offering a few coins for a wayward child to toss into a wishing fountain.

“No!” my father yells but doesn’t move. Two men have their guns trained on him. Massimo seems to have brought a small army with him. All the biggest players in the city are here for my wedding to Pablo, their families at their sides. They didn’t come to the wedding armed. An oversight, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of doing some damage. This man, Massimo, must have a death wish. There’s no way he’ll walk out of here alive, much less as my husband.

I blink through the fog of my shock and fear. Wait. Did … did he just offer …

“I’ll triple it, but that’s as far as I’ll go.” He holds my father’s angry stare. “I can marry her with or without your agreement, Leonard.” Massimo glances at the armed men all around the sanctuary, their guns was set to be ready . “And I’m happy to spill more blood if that’s what it takes.”

I try to dart down the steps, but Massimo catches me around my waist and yanks me to him, my back to his front. He holds me there, his arm like an iron bar across my waist as his other hand goes to my throat and squeezes.

“You aren’t going anywhere, princess,” he hisses in my ear.

I gasp and dig my nails into his hand.

He laughs, low and sinister. “Keep going. I’ll pay you back in kind.”

I freeze when he tightens his grip on my neck, stopping my air.

I stare at my father through the bloody veil, tears welling in my eyes. He doesn’t even look at me. Not once.

“Deal.” He backs up and sits next to my mother.

Massimo laughs again, the low sound rumbling through me as he lets go of my throat.

“Father?” I cry.

Massimo yanks me to him and snatches the bloody veil, lifting it and letting it fall behind my head.

“Daddy!” I scream again, using a name that hasn’t been on my lips since I was five years old.

“Don’t look at him.” Massimo grabs my chin and forces me to meet his gaze. “Look at me.” His eyes rake up and down, lingering for a brief moment on the bruise at my jawline. When his light blue eyes meet mine, something inside me goes cold. I don’t know this man, don’t know anything about him. It was the same with Henrico, but this … this is not Henrico. Henrico was typical-maybe even soft, maybe I could’ve learned to tolerate him- that’s what my mother said, anyway. But this man- he’s cold and hard. He murdered without a thought and intends to take me by brutal force. I can’t let this happen.

“No.” My voice is a whisper as I cringe away from him.

He smirks, his full lips twisting up on one side. “Oh yes, princess.”

I try to take a step back, but he grabs my arm and pulls me around to face the priest.

“Make it fast, Father.” His grip tightens on me. “I’m a busy man.”

“Let go!” I try to yank free of his hold.

“Nina!” my mother cries.

I turn my head to look at her, to find some help. But all she does is give me the look I’ve seen my whole life- the one that says if I don’t quiet down and do as I’m told, the consequences will be painful. My heart turns to ash, the gray bits of it floating into nothing at my feet.

“Mother?” I choke on the word. “Please.”

“No one’s going to help you, princess.” Massimo pulls me to him, his eyes burning into me. “No one’s going to do a thing to stop me. Not your family, not a single person in this church, not even the priest. From this day forward, you are mine to do with as I please.” He smiles, the cruelty in it sending a chill down my spine. “A Fontana in my hands, to break as I see fit. I’ve looked forward to this day for a long, long time.”

“Let me go.” I hate the way my voice cracks, a sob rising in my throat.

“Never.” He takes my hand in a crushing grip and turns us to face the priest. “Get on with it.”