If someone had told me I would one day marry a criminal, I would have laughed in their face.
Yet here I was.
Clutching a bouquet so tightly my fingers ached, walking down the aisle toward a man whose name carried fear in every corner of the city. Dante Castellano.
The music echoed softly through the grand hall, but I barely heard it. My heartbeat drowned out everything else. Each step felt unreal, like I was watching someone else move my body forward.
My father wasn't here.
I told myself it was for the best. There was no point dragging him into a marriage that would end in a year…if I survived that long. He was getting old. He didn't need to worry about a daughter who had already been swallowed by a world he would never understand.
The guests filled every seat, dressed in expensive suits and glittering gowns. Important faces. Dangerous ones. None of them smiled warmly. None of them felt safe.
I didn't recognize a single soul.
At the altar, Dante waited.
He looked devastatingly composed in his tailored black suit, dark hair slicked back, posture relaxed like this was just another business deal closing in his favor. When our eyes met, his lips curved into a smile that carried no warmth at all.
It chilled me more than if he hadn't smiled.
"Do you, Dante Castellano," the officiant asked, voice slightly unsteady, "take Amalia Moretti to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," Dante replied calmly.
No hesitation. No emotion.
My stomach twisted.
"And do you, Amalia Moretti, take Dante Castellano to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
There was no escaping this nightmare.
My grip tightened around the bouquet, the flowers trembling with me. Every instinct screamed to run. But where would I go?
"I do," I whispered.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
It never happened.
Pop.
The sound cut through the hall like a knife.
For a split second, no one moved.
Then chaos exploded.
Guests screamed, chairs scraped violently across marble floors, bodies scrambling in every direction. Dante's men surged forward instantly, forming a protective perimeter as more gunshots rang out.
"Down!" Dante barked.
He grabbed my wrist and shoved me beneath a heavy table just as he pulled a gun from his jacket. The sound of bullets tore through the hall, shattering glass and marble alike.
I curled into myself, trembling so hard my teeth chattered.
This was the mafia world.
This was my life now.
"Boss!" someone yelled. "We're surrounded!"
Dante's voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding.
"Seal the exits."
"Get the guests out—now."
"Cover the balcony."
"Anyone who fires without my order is dead."
His control was terrifying.
I pressed my hands over my ears, trying to block out the deafening cracks of gunfire. My wedding dress dragged through dust and shattered glass beneath the table.
I was going to die on my wedding day.
Suddenly, a hand yanked me backward.
I screamed.
The entire room went silent.
A cold barrel pressed against my temple.
I looked up and my blood ran cold.
Antonio.
His smile was cruel, twisted with satisfaction as he dragged me upright, his arm locking around my throat.
"Dante," he drawled, voice echoing through the hall, "what a beautiful bride you've got."
Dante slowly turned.
The air around him shifted.
"A shame," Antonio continued, "that you didn't invite me to such a wonderful wedding."
Dante's eyes darkened into something lethal.
"Antonio," he said smoothly. "Always fond of surprise visits. How was the funeral? I heard it was today."
Antonio laughed darkly.
"I sent you an invite. Guess you couldn't make it. Understandable—you wouldn't want to show your face at my brother's funeral when you're the one who ended his life."
A smirk tugged at Dante's mouth.
"Careful with your words. False accusations can get you killed."
Antonio's arm tightened around my throat, cutting off my breath. I gasped, tears burning my eyes.
"You killed my brother because of this bitch," Antonio snarled. "Then you tried to kill me too!"
"You must be mistaken," Dante replied coolly. "Put the gun down."
Antonio stepped back, dragging me with him.
"You think I didn't know?" he shouted. "When you sent your men to burn me alive?"
He rolled up his sleeve.
Burn scars crawled up his arm. It was raw and horrifying.
Dante's gaze flicked to them with what looked like… approval.
"Bloody idiots," Dante muttered. "Can't do a job properly. My apologies. I should have ended you myself."
Antonio's face contorted with rage.
"My wife died in that fire!" he roared. "She had nothing to do with this! She didn't deserve to die!"
Dante scratched his eyebrow, visibly bored.
"Greg did nothing to you!" Antonio screamed.
He shoved the gun harder against my skull.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I'd had guns pointed at me twice in one week.
Why was my life worth nothing?
Antonio laughed bitterly.
"You don't care about her," he sneered at Dante. "Your heart is made of stone."
Dante's eyes met mine.
For a split second, something unrecognizable flickered there.
"You just use people," Antonio continued. "Discard them when you're done. Her death won't cost you any pain—but you married her because she's valuable. And that's enough for me."
His grip tightened.
"It's enough to know I'm taking something valuable from you," Antonio said. "Just like you took everything from me."
The room went deadly quiet.
Dante raised his gun slowly.
"I won't ask again," he said, voice cold as steel. "Put the gun down, Antonio."
Antonio laughed wild, unhinged.
Then his finger tightened.
"Say goodbye to your wife."