But I haven’t forgotten him, not a single time.
Mass Cardone.
Killer, monster, God among mortals.
The father of my daughter.
He leans forward as though he’s about to start the ceremony.
But instead, he pulls something from his jacket.
It’s midnight black and polished to a sheen. Nobody reacts as my mouth opens. I try to cry out, but I can’t make a noise.
Mass aims the gun at Sal’s head, still looking me straight in the eye.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about you, Allie,” Mass says, his voice a sub-bass rumble that makes my toes tingle. “And now I’m here to take what’s mine.”
Sal looks around in a panic. “What the hell is going on?” he chirps.
Mass pulls the trigger.
ALLIE
The bullet rips through Sal’s head. His skull explodes in a spray of blood and thick brain matter. I’m splashed by gore and can’t move. I taste something warm and sticky on my lips. I wipe it away, struggling against the urge to start retching.
My groom’s corpse crumples to the ground.
There’s a moment. It’s brief but magical. Nobody reacts. They don’t know how to. These are some of the most powerful made men in the Cosa Nostra. They’re the New York criminal elite, here to bless my union with one of their minor number. The Russos might be on the decline, but we’re still old royalty, and our name still matters around here.
Not a single one of them would ever dream a man might commit an atrocity like this one.
And I swear, Mass never looks away from me. Like casually murdering a man in front of hardened and vicious criminals at his own wedding is nothing at all.
Finally, the scream I’ve been holding back rips itself from my throat.
All hell breaks loose.
Men are on their feet. Guns are drawn. But before the shooting can start, more people spill into the yard. Men in full tactical body armor with helmets, visors, and long military-grade rifles surround the little wedding. Some are kneeling while others stand above them, a double ring of death. I count twenty before I lose track.
If my father’s security is still alive, I’m pretty sure they’re useless at this point.
Mass steps forward and lowers his gun. He shoves it back into his holster and grabs me roughly by the arm. I stumble against him, whimpering, struggling to keep my composure. Dozens of outraged and horrified faces stare back. My mother has Rosie turned away from the slaughter. At least she’s sparing my daughter the worst. At least she’s too little to understand.
Her father’s back.
“I believe there has been some kind of mistake,” Mass says loudly to the gathered people. “This girl was about to be married off to a nobody. She was going to be given away to a worthless minor figure in our illustrious world.”
“Who the fuck are you?!” Papa shouts, trembling with outrage.
But Gabriel puts a hand on our father’s shoulder. He leans in and whispers, and Papa’s face goes completely pale. His eyes widen as terror falls over him.
Word is passed around the gathering. I watch it like a ripple in a pond. Some of the men realize what’s happening, and as they all hear Mass’s name, they come to understand.
They’re in the presence of a Dragon.
“I’m here to rectify this grievous mistake. If anyone wishes to speak against my decision, now is the time.”
Some of the most powerful men in the city watch and don’t speak a single word.
