"I chose you."
The words crack something open in me, something I didn't know was locked. Every carefully built wall, every layer of control I've wrapped around myself for years… and she dismantles it with three words.
My hand comes to her waist, firm, steady, pulling her just slightly closer than necessary, grounding myself in the reality of her.
She's here. My Valentina is fucking here. Choosing to be my wife.
Her breath catches softly, her body responding to mine without hesitation, pressing just slightly into me before she steadies herself again.
"You just had to make this difficult," she murmurs.
"You like difficult," I reply quietly.
The corner of her mouth lifts just slightly, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just this.
Just us.
Then movement breaks at the edge of my vision.
Sofia stumbles, her heel catching against the floor as she steps forward, her balance shifting dangerously.
Before she can fall, a man steps in, catching her effortlessly.
Arturo.
His hand wraps around her waist, steadying her, pulling her upright in one smooth motion. For a moment, they don't move, their eyes locked. His thumb presses just slightly against her ribs before he releases her. Not fast, not slow. Deliberate.
Sofia straightens quickly, smoothing her dress, but her chest rises and falls just a little too fast.
The ceremony moves forward.
Vows are spoken. Promises are sealed. Valentina's fingers tighten around mine, just slightly, but I feel it. The way she looks at me…like she knows exactly what she's stepping into, and she's choosing it anyway.
When I slide the ring onto her finger, my hand lingers there, my thumb brushing lightly against her skin.
When she places mine, her touch is softer, but no less certain.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
The debt is paid.
When I kiss her, it's controlled at first, restrained, but there's nothing restrained about the way she responds. Her hand comes to my tie, gripping lightly, grounding herself, and for a moment, I forget where we are.
I forget who's watching. I forget everything except her.
When I open my eyes, I realize Raffaele is not positioned, which means something's wrong.
The first shot rings out.
The sound cracks through the room, sharp and violent, shattering everything in an instant.
My body moves before my mind catches up.
I pull her down, turning, shielding her with my body as chaos erupts around us. Screams break through the air, chairs scraping, people scrambling. My Beretta is in my hand, but the shooter's position is unclear. The dons and their right hands are here. Who the fuck is firing at my wedding?
Another shot.
Then another.
