Page 83 of Murder & Mayhem
Once again, the wedding coordinator’s voice comes through the door. “It’s time.”
“Now or never,” I mutter under my breath as I lower the veil over my face and make my way out of the room. When the coordinator first handed it to me, I nearly told her to take it away, but I’m actually happy to hide behind the thin, lace fabric for as long as possible. When I step into the large, vacuous church, filled to the brim with no one I recognize, I’m even more glad I’m wearing it. My heart hammers in my chest, blood whooshing in my ears to the tune of The Wedding March.
I feel a slight pressure on my lower back and turn to find the wedding coordinator encouraging me down the aisle. She has a massive grin on her face. Of course, she thinks this is a normal, happy bride and groom wedding instead of the farce that it really is.
Steeling my spine, I take a small step forward, then another. I ignore all the smiling faces of men and women I don’t recognize. Each one of them is dressed impeccably, draped in all their finery. Clearly, they are all Antonellis or associated in some way. Not that any of it will do them any good when they’re all lying dead, slumped in their seats, at the hands of the Rejects.
“Just get to the end of the aisle, Trouble,” Oliver whispers in my ear, as if sensing how close I am to bolting. “We’ll do the rest.” His words help bolster me, and my next step has more conviction behind it. I’m not sure if this church is just massive or I’m walking in slow motion—maybe both—but it seems to take forever for me to reach the halfway point. As I do, my gaze is drawn toward the front of the church. My breathing catches. Dante is standing front and center in front of the altar, staring right at me. His eyes are as intense as ever, and I wonder how I didn’t feel his gaze on me the second I entered. I’ve never seen him dressed in anything other than a suit, but he looks impeccable with his long, black tailcoat with matching pants, dress shoes, and bowtie.
I slowly roam my eyes over him. I know he can sense me staring, but I still feel like, for the first time, I have the opportunity to really take him in. The light stubble he sometimes sports when he’s around the house has been cleanly shaven, and his short, black hair is slicked back, only adding to his prominent appearance. His face is as shut down as it always is, making it impossible for me to read anything. Is he happy? Angry? Does he even care? The fact that he’s insisted on this wedding would imply he should, but he certainly doesn’t look like a happy groom about to marry the love of his life.
Movement to the left draws my attention, and my gaze lands on Enzo, who looks just as regal in his pitch-black suit. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, and uncannily his face is as void of emotion as Dante’s. His I can understand, though. He’s watching the woman he’s been obsessed with for eight years marry his best friend. Even though he knows this is all a farce and I’m being forced down the aisle, it still must be difficult to watch.
As I get closer to the front of the church, my eyes swing over the guests all standing in their pews. More falsely happy faces greet me, and I’m once again thankful for the lace over my face that prevents any of them from seeing my eye roll and disgusted expression. I just want to scream at them all that this is such a sham. Not that I think it would do any good. They’re all Giovanni’s puppets.
Speaking of the devil, he’s standing in the front row, grinning just as brightly as all the other guests, but the cruel lilt to his lips and excitement dancing in his eyes makes my heart beat faster. He seems to know I’m watching him as he shifts subtly to one side, and I gasp, my footsteps faltering as my eyes land on Luc. “Oh my god.” My mind whirs with questions as I struggle to comprehend what’s happening. His right eye is swollen shut, his left one staring at me in confusion. He has no idea who is behind the veil; he has no idea what the hell is going on. But he’s here, beside Giovanni, beaten and bound, with duct tape over his mouth… and no one else is giving it a second look. The guests in the pew behind them just smile at me as though nothing out of the ordinary is going on.
“What’s wrong?” Cain’s bossy tone reminds me they are still in my ear as my stunned gaze returns to Luc.
“Luc.”
“What about him? He’s fine, Red. You can see him later. Just focus.”
It’s clear from his tone that he has no idea Luc isn’t at the clubhouse. That he’s right here in front of me.
“No, he’s here.”
“What?!” both men bark at the same time.
“G-Giovanni has him. He’s standing right in front of me, beaten to hell.”
There’s a round of cursing over the earpiece, but I barely listen as my attention swivels to Giovanni. His grin is even broader, crueler than before, and as I watch, he lifts a revolver high enough for me to see. The threat is clear enough—misbehave, and he’ll kill him. My legs are shaking now. This is my worst nightmare come to life. Everything—absolutely everything—I’ve done has been to protect Luc, and somehow he’s ended up in the very thick of it, surrounded by the worst kind of people. How did they find him? How did they get to him? Why did Jon or one of the kids not inform Cain or Oliver? So many questions fire across my mind, but none of them matter right now. All I can do is ensure my brother’s safety and make sure he walks out of here alive.
In a daze, I somehow manage to reach the end of the aisle, and Dante steps forward, offering his arm for me to take. I stare down at it, unable to move. My body feels like it’s made of lead, and the only thing I can think is, did he know about any of this? Is he in on it along with his father? When I make no effort to move, he lifts my arm and places it through his, leading me up the steps. My movements are automatic. My head is no longer in the church. It’s only when the music stops, and the priest starts talking that I come back to earth.
“Abort,” I whisper in a quiet voice. “Abort.”
There’s a second’s silence while I wait with sweaty palms for them to confirm before Oliver’s defeated tone sounds in my ear. “Will do.” I can only hope that they actually do.
“Red, don’t do this,” Cain growls. He’s not talking about calling off the attack. He knows I wouldn’t risk Luc’s life like that. He’s talking about the wedding.
Dante’s hand comes to lift my veil, and I say my final words to Cain and Oliver before I lose the privacy offered by the lace. “I have to.”
Another round of curses goes off in my ear, but I tune them out as Dante lifts the veil off my face. He’s as stoic as ever. Unreadable. I’ve never wanted to dig underneath his granite exterior as badly as I do now. Did he know? It’s the question that keeps circling back around in my mind.
My eyes go past him to Enzo. He’s never looked so much like Dante as he does today. Equally as shut down. Have they been playing me this whole time? Have I been a fool thinking these two men actually cared in their own twisted way?
A muffled cry from the front row has my head snapping round, my eyes landing on my brother. Santos has his filthy fucking hands on him, ensuring he can’t move, not that he could go anywhere anyway. From the aisle, I could see his zip-tied hands, but from up here, I can see that his feet are tied together too. I hold his gaze, drinking in his bright-blue eyes similar to mine, hoping I can convey in just a look how sorry I am. I failed him in the worst possible way, and now I’m about to pay for it.
Only when Dante lifts my hand, placing a diamond-encrusted wedding band on my finger, does my attention come back to the man in front of me. “I do.” His voice rings with conviction and certainty. His vow binding and eternal.
I stare at the ring on my finger before dropping my hand to my side. It’s like I’m seeing everything as though through a tunnel. Everything is distorted and distant sounding, like it’s happening too slow and too fast all at once.
My eyes slowly crawl over Dante’s shirt, cleanly shaven jaw, and thin lips until I meet his turbulent brown eyes.
My breathing is ragged and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so out of it before. I blink, focusing on the scene before me as the priest holds out a chunky, white-gold wedding band and asks, “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Defeat threatens to crush me, choking me and making it next to impossible to get the words out, but as I stare into my husband's cold, dead eyes, I whisper, “I do.”
