A crackle of static precedes his voice. “Nothing. I’ve done two full loops. Checked the east lounge, bar, even the catering hallway. No sign of Joe.”
My gut twists. “He RSVP’d.”
“Well, he’s either hiding, late, or never intended to come.”
We reach the end of the promenade and pause near a marble column. Waiters sweep past with trays of hors d’oeuvres. Axel checks his watch. “Ceremony’s in fifteen.”
“We can’t stall much longer,” I say.
Sean’s voice cuts in again. “I’ll keep circling, but you two need to join the wedding party now. The window’s closing.”
Axel curses under his breath. He turns to Lina. “We’ll find him. Eyes are everywhere.”
She nods, but her jaw’s tight, fists clenched. She knows what it means. We all do. No Joe means no takedown. And now, Johnny has to go through with the wedding.
“Hey,” Axel lifts her chin. “W.W.B.W.D.?”
Their stupid mantra brings a small smile on her lips. I can’t believe they’re still saying it, but if it makes her happy, that’s all that matters.
I touch her arm gently. “Sean will take you back to the dressing room. Stay there. Do not engage unless we give the all-clear. If anything shifts, we’ll come get you.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “And if he doesn’t show?”
I pause. “Then we regroup. There’s always a Plan B.”
Axel gives her one last look, then moves toward the groomsmen lineup. I follow for a few steps, then glance back. Sean’s already there, hand in hers.
“I’ve got her,” he says quietly.
I meet her eyes. “Be careful, Carolina.”
Then I turn and walk away.
For the next hour, we’ll play our parts in a ceremony that may never get the ending we planned.
If Joe doesn’t show… this was all for nothing.
Chapter 40
Johnny
The tie won’t sit right.
I’ve redone it three times, and it still looks like shit. I blame the mirror. Or the lighting. Or maybe the fact that I shouldn’t be getting ready for a wedding that wasn’t supposed to actually happen.
I toss the damn thing onto the dresser with more force than necessary. My reflection stares back at me with tired eyes and stiff shoulders like I’m bracing for a punch that never comes.
The tux is custom. The watch, vintage. The cufflinks could pay someone’s rent. But none of it fits right. Because none of this isreal.
I run a hand through my hair and stare down the empty groom suite. Just me, and the thick, echoing silence of everything I’ve sacrificed for this moment.
There’s a single knock. Then, the door creaks open.
Walter steps in like he owns the place. No hesitation, just that calm, smug swagger, reeking of cologne and concealed rot.
“Getting cold feet?” he asks, lips twitching like he already knows the answer.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
