On my wedding day.
For a moment, I had been completely lost—drowned in memories I had clawed my way out of. But the wind didn’t let me stay there. It pulled me back, forced my eyes open to the present.
Ottavio was still on his knees—barely holding himself upright—fingers clawing at the ground as if he could drag himself away from what I’d already decided.
My dagger was still lodged across his mouth.
Not deep enough to end him.
Just enough to remind him.
Blood trickled in thin, trembling streams down his chin, pooling at his neck, soaking into his collar.
His breathing came in ragged, wet gasps—each one a fight, each one weaker than the last. His eyes burned with panic, with defiance that was slowly dissolving into something far worse.
Realization.
Pain twisted his features as he tried to speak, but the blade silenced him—forcing only muffled, strangled sounds to escape.
Good.
Let him feel it.
Let him remember exactly who he wronged.
A sharp chirp cut through the suffocating silence.
I didn’t move at first.
My gaze stayed locked on him—on the way his strength was draining out of him like blood from an open wound.
The phone chirped again.
Reluctantly, I reached for it.
I had warned them.
No calls. No interruptions. Not until I was finished.
I glanced at the screen.
Ciro. My second-in-command.
I answered, my voice cold.
“Boss...” His tone was tight—rushed, but edged with urgency.
“The bride... she’s stranded. Her family’s getting restless—angry, even. They’re threatening that if you don’t show up by—”
“The wedding can wait. This cannot.”
Then I ended the call.
I didn’t take my eyes off Ottavio.
I dropped the phone back into my pocket.
Chapter 2
