Page 63 of Mafia Princess

The priest clears his throat and we both jerk our heads to look at him. “May we proceed?” He asks in his strong Bostonian accent.

“By all means.” I tilt my head at him and smile politely.

There’s a commotion in the back, as the doors fly open, and a team of heavily armed police in SWAT gear circle around the pews and position themselves evenly between the rows. They just keep coming in as we stand at the altar watching.

Both Midnight and Storm whine from the back of the church and Rico has a hard time keeping them still. My eyes connect with Papa’s as he sits in his seat next to Mason, not moving, he nods once to me to let me know everything will be alright.

The crowd starts to stand, and the hushed sounds from all the movement and talking fills the church space. We are surrounded as ten men in suits march in and head straight for Papa, Mason, and Tristan. Two are stationed in front of Rico, but Midnight and Storm won’t allow them near him.

It all happens in a blinding blur of movement.

“Stop!” I shout as they handcuff Papa, Mason, and Tristan.

I scramble down the few steps of the altar, kick off my stupid heels, and grab a hold of the police officer who has handcuffed Mason. “You’ve got the wrong people. Let them go.” I pull on his arm in a desperate attempt to stop him.

“Please, Miss, let go of me.” The officer looks down at me, annoyed a fuck.

“They haven’t done anything.” I glare back at him.

“Maya, leave it. Let these men do their job.” Papa, calm as ever, shoots me one of his glares

I step back and watch on as the officers start to lead the men in my life away from me. I slice my eyes to Rico, who is also now handcuffed, a look of apology on his face. He mouths sorry as I realize my two dogs are nowhere to be seen. My gut wrenches and I turn to Papa, torn as to whether I should run after Storm and Midnight, or stay and watch my family be arrested. I’m momentarily distracted by Papa’s dominating voice as he speaks to the officers.

“Give me the respect to say a proper goodbye to my daughter,” Papa’s tone is even and calm. The dirty cop uncuffs him and nods to allow him to approach me.

Dread rises up my chest, just about ready to burst through my flesh, when Papa’s eyes catch mine.

“Don’t be afraid, Principessa.” He strides to me, placing his large palms on my cheeks.

“No, Papa.” I suck in a sob and hold on to him for support.

“Shhh, sweetheart, everything will be ok.” He pulls me into him and wraps his strong arms around me, cradling me into his chest like when I was a child. “You need to be strong for us.”

His hand strokes my hair, and the familiar scent of his cologne engraves itself into my heart.

“Papa,” I choke.

“Don’t give these bastards the satisfaction of seeing you cry,” he growls and pulls me away from him. “Maya, my Principessa, you need to hold your shit together. We need you to hold this family together. We’ll be fine. Do you understand?” He grips my arms in his strong fingers. “Answer me.”

I nod and swallow the thick saliva pooling in my mouth. “I understand.”

“I’ve trained you for this, from the beginning. You can do this. You are the head of the family until we get released.” He leans in and kisses my forehead once, twice, and finally a third time before he’s dragged away from me.

“I love you, Mason. I love you, Tristan. I love you, Rico. Papa,” my voice gets lost in my sob as I watch the men in my life get lead away.

The noise in the church is deafening, as the guests all scramble to leave, afraid they’re next in line to be arrested. With my heart heavy in my chest, I beeline for the church doors, desperate to find my two dogs.

I don’t look back at the mayhem behind me and I’ve lost sight of Milan, but right now all I need is to find my babies. Just as I make it through the doors, I’m jerked back as a hand slaps over my mouth, pulling me backward into strong arms.

I thrash in their grip, trying to fee myself when a loud crack splits through my head and it’s the last thing I remember.

_ _ _

Moving is proving difficult as I come to and my eyes adjust to the darkness that surrounds me. The gag in my mouth is soaked in my saliva and tastes like an old man’s ass crack. The throb in my head thuds in time with my heartbeat, each pounding ache sending waves of nausea through me. I jerk my arms but they’re tied behind my back, and my ankles are secured to the legs of the chair. The numbness in my limbs hints at how long I’ve been knocked out.

“Fuck,” I scream, but it comes out a garbled mess.

I glance down and I’m still wearing my wedding dress, the rips and dark smears from fuck knows what, add to the decorative beading. A ball of fire erupts in my chest once I realize where I am.

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