Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
King cursed under his breath. “I wish. No, I’m just a bit stressed out, can’t seem to imagine why though.”
“Strange,” Maksim said behind him. “For what reason would any of us be stressed at a wedding and treat it like a funeral?”
“Curious.” Dante grumbled after him. “So very curious.”
Ash cursed. “If it wouldn’t send the entire empire into absolute chaos, I would slit his throat right now.”
King chuckled. “I think that was the tame part of the confession.”
“I practiced a better one, but it was too detailed.” Ash glared at me.
I grinned back at him. “Thank you?”
He took a step forward; Dante shoved him back. “Behave.”
“My. God,” Maksim grumbled. “Could he walk any slower?”
“He’s ninety.” King hissed. “Show some respect.”
“Kill me. Straight-up, kill me if I ever walk that slowly, even at sixty.” Valerian shook his head. “Seriously.”
“I’ll do it,” Ash said cheerfully.
“Good man.” Dante nodded. “Good man.”
“And I’m the crazy one,” I said under my breath.
They clearly all heard though because every single one of them glared in my direction as if to say, yes, you are and no, we won’t ever forgive you.
I didn’t show it.
But I felt the loss.
At one point, they’d been mentors—friends.
Now I was the enemy they had to support while plotting my death. I was nothing to them.
I had no parents.
I had no friends.
I didn’t even really have my favorite enemy anymore. Couldn’t they see or understand, at the very least, how desperate I must have been to say yes to this calling?
Did they ever even really know me to begin with, if they just assume I’d lost my mind this way?
The answer was a resounding no, like a gong going off in my head. I truly was alone in the world and would die the same way.
Nobody would care about my funeral the way they did Juniors.
Nobody would grieve. They’d celebrate, and I’d allow it because in the end you have to sacrifice the few to save the many, if that makes me a monster then monster I’ll be.
I’ll drink the poison and smile while doing it.
A promise is a promise, after all.
The wedding march began.
I imagined this moment so differently.
I imagined seeing my bride at the end of the aisle, and I stupidly dreamed about it often, it wasn’t even about finding true love; it was about finding a family.
Having a family.
Replacing what I’d lost.
Belonging to something that was mine, and that was my choice.
Bella was right. I would never tell her that, but she was right. This was no wedding, this was a funeral.
Hers and mine.
The loss of her dreams of finding a forever.
The loss of mine of finding a family.
It was only loss, no gain.
Every step she took toward me would be stained in both of our blood, every fake smile we gave each other would be our penance. One day, I hoped she’d at least see why, that she’d at least understand that I was sacrificing the last parts of my soul that I had held on to.
Hope died for both of us that night, it was buried right along with our hearts.
The doors opened.
Nixon was in an all-black tuxedo, blue eyes steely, as he stared straight at me.
And Bella.
Was wearing red.
She was a walking sacrifice. In some cultures, it meant good luck, prosperity, happiness, but in the mafia, it meant something else completely.
Atonement.
By wearing red, she was telling everyone around her that she was part of my sin and part of my atonement, accepting me completely into her family and offering herself up as my equal.
Equally guilty of murder.
Equally guilty of taking over the Family.
Equal.
To.
Me.
My bride wore red.
How very brave.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“You always have a choice, at least that’s what people say, but in the end those choices still affect you and everyone around you, so while you always have a choice, sometimes you have to take the worst one.” —King Campisi
Bella
I’d picked out two dresses.
A white one that I’d dreamed about since I was a little girl, knowing my dad would give me away, imagining the look of love on my groom’s face and the look of downright grief and pride on my dad’s.
I wasn’t one of those girls who had a wedding vision book or anything, but what I did have was an obsession with dresses. Every scenario in life could be fixed with the right costume or, in my opinion, armor and dresses were the very best kind. When you think of a dress, you think of something that shows you off. When I think of a dress, I think of something that tells a story for you and helps you find the beginning, middle, and end.
Dresses solve puzzles because they’re puzzles in and of themselves, not one is really the same, and they’re always drawing the eye.
When I thought about my wedding dress, I wanted something that would bring out the best in me, something that would make the love of my life focus on my eyes and only my eyes.