He looks like he’s aged ten years since I called him three hours ago.
His hands shake as he clutches his bible, and sweat beads on his forehead despite the cool temperature.
“Mr. Artyomov,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, I beg you to reconsider?—”
“Did I ask for your opinion, Father?” I pull Sophia down the aisle, my grip on her wrist never loosening.
Father Bogdan’s face crumples. He knows he has no choice. I made sure of that years ago when I cleared his debts with the Morello family. Now it’s time to collect.
I position Sophia in front of the altar and finally release her wrist.
She immediately tries to run, but my men block the aisle behind us.
She spins back to face me, her chest heaving with panicked breaths.
“You can’t force me to marry you,” she says, but her voice wavers. “That’s not legal. It’s not?—”
“Legal?” I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter. “You think I care about legal?
I reach into my jacket and pull out my Glock. The weight is familiar, comforting.
Sophia’s eyes go wide as I point the barrel at her chest. “No. No, please?—”
“Father Bogdan,” I say, my voice deadly calm. “Begin the ceremony.”
The priest’s hands shake so badly he nearly drops his bible. “I-I can’t. This is a house of god. I can’t?—”
I shift my aim to him. “Would you like to meet your god tonight, Father? Because I’m happy to arrange that meeting.”
“Mikhail, please.” Sophia’s voice breaks on my name. Hearing it from her lips does something strange to my chest, something I don’t want to examine. “Don’t do this. Whatever my father did, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But this won’t fix it. This won’t?—”
I turn off the safety.
“Dearly beloved,” Father Bogdan begins, his voice cracking. He’s not even looking at his bible anymore. The words come from memory, rushed and desperate. “We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony?—”
“I don’t consent,” Sophia says firmly. She lifts her chin. Despite the tears streaming down her face, there’s defiance in her eyes. “I don’t consent to this marriage. It’s not valid if I don’t consent.”
I lower the gun from the priest and turn it back to her. I step closer, so close I can see the flecks of darker blue in her irises, can count each individual eyelash.
She’s even more beautiful up close, and I hate myself for noticing.
“You’ll consent,” I say softly, “or I’ll put a bullet in Father Bogdan’s head. Then I’ll find your friend Melinda, the blonde one you study with at the library. I’ll make you watch while I put a bullet in her head, too. Then I’ll find every single person you’ve ever cared about, and I’ll make them pay for your father’s sins. Do you understand me?”
Her face goes white. For a moment, I think she might faint. But then she nods, just once, and I see something break behind her eyes.
Good. Let her break. Let her feel what I felt.
“Continue,” I tell the priest.
The ceremony is a mockery of everything sacred. Father Bogdan rushes through the words, stumbling over phrases he’s probably said a thousand times.
Sophia stands rigid beside me, tears flowing silently down her cheeks.
When it’s time for the vows, I have to prompt her three times before she whispers, “I do.”
My own vows come easily. “I do.” Two words that seal her fate.
“The rings?” Father Bogdan asks weakly.
