C163 Something Bigger

Annabelle’s heart raced as Sal led her through the back of the estate.

She had no idea where he was taking her, but she could feel the familiar, gut-wrenching sense of danger creeping up on her.

Every step was calculated and every movement was suspicious.

Her mind scrambled, trying to piece together the puzzle of what had just unfolded.

The chaos, the gunshots and the tension in the air.

And all she could think of was that there could be more traitors like Sal around.

And despite her bone-deep terror, a defiance rose in her with every step.

She would not be run off her wedding by anyone, especially not a coward like Sal.

"Why are you doing this?" she dared to say. "Tad can never give you half what Dante can offer you.How can...?"

"Shut up!" he snapped and prodded her along.

The wedding gown weighed heavily on her, the massive tulle of it swishing with every frantic step and the delicate lace at the hem catching the air as if to remind her of the life she had just begun to build.

She had no idea if she’d make it through this day unscathed, but she wasn’t about to let anyone destroy it.

Not now.

She could almost hear Dante’s words echoing in her mind, telling her to be careful, to stay safe, but the rage that surged through her veins drowned out any concern for her own safety.

She gritted her teeth as Sal gripped her arm, forcing her forward.

But then, Annabelle suddenly whirled around in a tight, controlled motion, her body moving faster than her gown could keep up. She executed a roundhouse kick, her foot connecting with his chest in a sickening thud.

Then she ducked as the gun went off.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

She could hear the soft rustle of her wedding gown, the gasping breath of Sal, and the explosion of gunfire as the gun flew out of his hands.

The blast echoed through her mind, as if time itself had been suspended.

She dove for the weapon, her fingers brushing the cool metal.

But before she could seize it, Sal’s grip yanked her back, his fingers twisting violently through her hair.

Her vision blurred as the pain exploded in her scalp.

Her mouth opened in a scream, but the noise was drowned by the fury that consumed her.

Natasha, she thought.

Natasha had been so kind to her, helping her get through all the chaos, only for this bastard to ruin everything.

The fury was overwhelming.

Annabelle could feel the blood pounding in her ears, the sound of her heartbeat like a war drum as she launched herself at him.

She threw herself at him, desperate to reclaim her day.

To stop him from ruining everything.

He had no right.

With one last growl, she twisted her hair from his grip, yanking out the pin from her hair and driving it straight into his eye.

The sickening screech of his pain sent a tremor through her, but it only made her more determined.

She snatched the gun from his hand as he screamed, bringing it down hard against his skull.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice!

Each blow was punctuated with words she barely recognised as her own: “That’s for Natasha. That’s for Alfredo. That’s for my hair...”

She could feel the blood on her hands, the sticky warmth spreading onto her gown.

It was a feeling she didn’t care to focus on; all she wanted was for him to feel what she was feeling.

He should know her anger, pain, and frustration!

He was the cause of it all.

He was a part of the chaos.

And then, just as she raised the gun for another strike, she heard someone shout.

The voice sent a chill down her spine, and she froze in place.

“Annabelle.”

The voice was unmistakable.

Dante.

She turned, and her vision blurred for a split second.

But when she saw him, running towards her with his face filled with a combination of anger, relief, and worry; something broke inside her.

She had almost lost herself, and now, she had almost lost everything she had worked for.

Dante reached for her, his hand shaking as he took her by the arm and gently pulled her away from Sal.

His face was set in hard lines, but there was tenderness in his eyes when they met hers.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice rough, though it held a deep concern that made her heart ache.

Annabelle nodded, but her breath was ragged.

"He was...he is working for...he wanted to take..."

"I know," he said as he held her tighter.

"It's Tad," she mumbled against his chest as his heat seeped into her.

"Yes...well, it's not really Tad. We can talk about that later. Just let me hold you like this." he said with a shaky voice.

She frowned slightly but she couldn't be bothered to think beyond the fact that she was alive and safe in the hands of her husband-to-be.

She felt disoriented, her mind a whirl of fear, guilt, and anger.

Sal was sprawled on the floor, unconscious...or worse...but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

The only thing that mattered was the safety of her loved ones.

And she wasn’t going to let him win nor the bastard who sent him win.

Not today.

As Dante’s men closed in on the unconscious body of Sal, Annabelle’s eyes flickered over to Natasha, who was being supported out of the house by Mikhail.

She felt a wave of relief rush through her when she saw her friend breathing, her eyes flicking open and locking with Annabelle’s.

“She’s alive,” Annabelle whispered, her throat tightening with emotion.

Dante’s gaze softened, but there was something in his eyes, something intense, something determined. “You’re safe now,” he said, his voice firm.

“Alfredo?” she asked, her voice trembling as she turned to Dante.

The memory of seeing him crumpling still haunted her.

The sight of the blood pooling on the ground, so much like her own guilt, weighed on her.

“Alfredo is in good hands,” Dante replied, his tone resolute. “He’s alive, and he’ll be okay.”

Annabelle nodded, letting out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding.

Her gown, once pristine and beautiful, was now a wreck.

Bloodstained, torn at the helm and partially ruined.

It didn’t matter.

The day was still hers.

They still had time.

The thought of giving up her wedding, of postponing everything briefly crossed her mind, but no.

She wasn’t going to let Sal, or Tad, or anyone else ruin this day.

Not for her.

Not for Dante.

With a shaky breath, Annabelle ripped off the ruined part of her gown. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice steadying. “Let’s do this. Let’s finish what we started.”

Dante’s eyes softened, and he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

His gaze was filled with something Annabelle couldn’t name, but it made her feel stronger, made her feel like she could face whatever came next.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing a hand through her hair, attempting to fix the mess Sal had made.

But Annabelle wasn’t worried about the small imperfections.

She wasn’t worried about the bloodstains.

What mattered was that they were here, together.

And together, they could face anything.

With that, she stood tall, took his hand, and walked toward the altar.

***********

Dante’s mind raced as he watched Annabelle and Sal struggle, her fury evident in every move she made. His heart had stopped when he saw her nearly lose control.

He had come close to losing her and that was a feeling Dante couldn’t bear.

He could see the blood on her hands, the white gown now marred, but what shook him the most was how she had fought.

How she refused to let herself be cowed by a traitor.

She was fierce and resilient, and it filled him with a pride he couldn’t quite describe.

When she turned to him, he saw the fear in her eyes, the confusion, but there was something else.

A fire.

A strength that she had always hidden but now shone through.

“Annabelle,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She was shaken, yes, but there was no hesitation in her when she stood up.

No doubt when she ripped away the bloodied part of her gown.

Her determination and her strength were something Dante admired.

He could feel the pride swelling in his chest as he watched her, a woman he had fought for, stand before him.

And then, when she spoke, it wasn’t just a statement.

It was a promise.

She was ready to continue.

She was ready to marry him.

No more running.

No more fear.

Just them.

“Let’s do this,” Annabelle said, her voice steady and strong.

Dante took her hand, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

For all the chaos, for all the bloodshed, he was proud of her.

Proud to call her his.

And as they walked toward the altar, he realized that nothing and no one could tear them apart.

As he looked out at the guests, at the men and women who had come to witness this day, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment, this victory, was just the beginning.

The beginning of something far bigger.

Author's Note

A big thank you to you, dear reader, for turning the pages up until this point.

I really appreciate your time, interest, comments and votes.

Annabelle and Dante's story comes to an end here while they go on to enjoy their not-so-calm yet worthy happy ever after.

Kindly check out my other books on this platform.

You will certainly love them all.

Thank you for your continuous support.

Do take care.

***Kabirat Aleem***