Page 91 of Day Shift

One other thing I was grateful for: Elena had decided not to allow any children in the ceremony. The thought of a child being caught in the middle of a possible shoot-out was unbearable to me. Even if it meant I would be harmed, I would never risk a child’s safety.

After the long, torturous drive, the limo pulled up to the front steps of the church. I continued to twist the necklace around my finger, staring out the window. There was nothing I wanted less than to walk down that aisle. This was like a bad dream.

Bianca snapped at me, “Stop fiddling around with that thing.” After I had tucked it back inside my dress, she added, “Make sure to watch your step and not trip on your way down the aisle.”

Carlotta laughed. “Wouldn’t that be humiliating?”

I scanned the front of the church, hoping I would see one of the guys and perhaps at least be able to say something to one of them, but none of them were there. Without my phone, I had no way of knowing what was going on with them. Anything could have happened overnight. What if they had been taken somehow or were hurt? My thoughts were interrupted when the car door opened and a big guy I didn’t recognize offered me his hand to help me out.

Getting out of the car in that massive wedding gown was like trying to wrangle a wild beast. Eventually, I managed to stand on the sidewalk with the chapel-length train billowing around me. Bianca and Carlotta were quick to exit the vehicle behind me. The two stylists were right behind them. They fussed over my dress, shaking out the train and pulling the veil over my head, making sure everything was perfectly situated. Bianca and Carlotta wasted no time heading up the stairs of St. Peter’s.

I glanced around, wondering if I should take off running now. At this point, improvisation was my only option. I hated Elena, Viktor, and Valentina. None of them had ever shown me an ounce of kindness. My entire life had been a lie, and I was nothing more than a poker chip in Viktor’s game. Just as I was about to bolt, Luca stepped up beside me, taking me by the elbow.

“You’re not having thoughts of running, are you?” he asked. “The church is full of some of New York’s most powerful people. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them now, would you?”

I turned to face him, forcing a weak smile onto my face. “No, Uncle Luca. Of course not. This was my sole purpose for being born, right?” He squinted and frowned, nodding his head slightly. A rare reaction to my sarcasm.

Luca was the one walking me down the aisle because most people didn’t know that Viktor Volkov was my father. Despite everything, I was happy Luca was here. For some reason, I trusted him—at least a little—to keep me safe. I glanced up the stairs, wondering if my legs would even carry me. They were shaking like jelly.

My uncle placed one hand around my waist and took my arm. Then we slowly made our way up the stairs, the wind catching my veil and sending a chill down my spine. As we walked, Luca had to support my weight. His expression was as impassive as usual while he kept us moving forward.

We reached the top of the stairs and then the doors leading to the narthex. Bianca and Carlotta had already entered and should be heading down the aisle. Two men stood on either side of the doors, ready to open them. The string quartet started playing the “Bridal Chorus” by Wagner. Just before I stepped forward, a soft whistle caught my attention. I snapped my head to the left and spotted Lucian standing at the corner of the portico. He gave me a barely noticeable nod before disappearing to the side of the building.

Luca made a gesture to the men at the doors, and they opened them in unison.

All the guests stood, fixing their eyes on me. Heat rose to my cheeks, spreading through my whole body. Luca turned and pretended to fix my veil, smiling at me. "Pay attention,” he said. Then he tucked my arm over his, and we crossed into the narthex.

I started to ask him what he meant, but he only enigmatically whispered, “You will know.” The tension in the church was palpable, and other than the music, it was deadly silent. We slowly made our way across the narthex.

No, no, no—I couldn’t marry Frankie Moretti.

My eyes scanned for an escape, and I tried to pull away, but Luca had a firm hold and was all but dragging me down the aisle. My mind raced as I frantically tried to find a way out. I visualized how the rooms on either side of the sanctuary were laid out. To my left was the sacristy and the vestry, and to the right was a cloakroom, with a door leading out to the side of the building. That was my only hope for escaping, but I would have to dart past Frankie and his groomsmen to get there.

When we crossed from the narthex into the sanctuary, my breath caught. There were so many faces I didn’t recognize, and I assumed most of the men were carrying guns. I had no idea who among them would care if I were murdered in broad daylight, but I guessed most of them wouldn’t blink an eye. It was up to me to save myself.

My eyes darted from side to side, while my feet dragged, desperate to find a way out. Then I saw Frankie, and bile rose in my throat. This couldn’t be happening. Not him, not now. I swallowed hard. A few more steps, and we were in front of the priest and next to Frankie. Luca lifted my veil over my head and kissed my cheeks. My feet felt like they were made of concrete as he turned and placed my hand into Frankie’s sweaty palm. My future husband’s hand seared into mine, and tears threatened to spill over.

Frankie turned toward the priest, towing me along with him.

Father Russo began with the sign of the cross and a greeting. I glanced over my shoulder as he started the opening prayer and saw Viktor, Valentina, and Elena sitting stoically, as if they didn’t know me, only a few feet away. Painful childhood memories flashed through my mind. Then I caught sight of Nik behind them, on the end of the pew, and froze.

Frankie tugged on my hand, trying to bring my attention back to the priest, but my eyes were locked on Nik. I could always read his features like a book. Something bad was about to go down. He was nervous, worried even. Nik never got nervous. My bottom lip quivered. Terror surged through me.

Just as I turned back toward Father Russo, a gunshot echoed through the sanctuary.

Time stopped. Everything slowed down, each second seeming to last an eternity. Father Russo’s throat burst open in a gruesome spray of blood. I recoiled, rotating in time to watch Frankie’s face disintegrate from the impact of the bullet. Blood and bits of flesh spewed everywhere. The priest’s body crumpled forward, colliding with Frankie. Both men fell onto me, their combined weight knocking me to the floor.

Warm, sticky blood sprayed over me, soaking into my dress. The air was filled with the metallic scent of it, as well as a faint smell of Frankie’s cologne, gagging me. The once pristine white lace of my gown had become a grotesque canvas of dark crimson streaked with Father Russo’s and Frankie’s blood, bone, and flesh, creating a macabre painting of life and death.

Screams erupted in the sanctuary. I turned my head, every movement sluggish, to see Nik diving out from the pew. His body seemed to be moving through water, slow and deliberate, as he reached for me. Finally, he grabbed me under my arms and yanked, but I couldn’t move. Frankie’s body was pinning the train of my dress to the floor.

Nik kicked Frankie’s corpse off me, and it flopped over like a dead fish. My almost-groom’s head was twisted at a bizarre angle, and one of his eyes was missing, replaced by a gaping, bloody socket. More shots rang out, ricocheting off the stone columns, creating a deafening cacophony. The sanctuary descended into bedlam. All around me, guns were being drawn and safeties clicked off. Those caught in the crossfire continued screaming and running for cover.

Blood dripped from my face and ran down my neck as I tried to comprehend the scene surrounding me. I lay there, immobilized by the horror of the moment, while Nik struggled to pull me up amidst the layers of my gown. The church, a place of supposed sanctity and peace, had become a grisly battleground.

Nik screamed something, snapping me out of my slow-motion nightmare and thrusting me into a fast-speed reality. “We have to go!” he shouted. He lunged toward the door to the sacristy, but I remembered the gunshot had come from there and tugged him to the right, toward the cloakroom. Together, we made a run for it as more shots rang out.

Just as we reached the door, it flew open. Conan stood there, his expression radiating rage and fear. His eyes were wide, his jaw was clenched, and his nostrils flared with each breath. Nik shoved me into Conan’s arms, gathered up my train, and pushed us both into the cloakroom before joining us, slamming the door shut, and locking it.

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