Page 100 of Mafia King's Surprise Baby

Hands wrap around my arms and pull me forward. I don’t know how my feet decide to work and follow through when my insides are tearing apart with loss and trepidation. I’m bundled into a waiting car, in the backseat this time, thank goodness, sandwiched between two burly men who act as tight buffers stopping me from even squirming so much they’re squeezing me tight with their bulk.

The car starts, and as I glance around, I notice some landmarks outside under the dim, rheumy glow of street lamps. We’re somewhere around South Bronx and East Harlem, a sign showing the direction to St Mary’s Park glinting under the headlights. I frown. We seem to be going closer to Manhattan and not away from it.

Dread catches the drift my thoughts have picked up. We’re going closer to where Leo is. He’ll be meeting us halfway, coming to meet with his death if these thugs’ plan goes as they want it to.

We’re getting closer to Point Morris now. Across the windshield, I can see reflections of light over water, from Randalls Island across from us, the lamps from the park a distant glow making eerie flutters over the dark surface of this canal connecting the Harlem River to the East River.

A part of me knows where we’re going before we even get there. Here they go, these men, taking a memory of mine and tainting it. I can see the dilapidated church from the window as soon as we turn down the craggy street leading to it. When we were teenagers, my friends and I would sneak back here and share a bottle of cheap vodka and a spiff of weed if we were lucky to landon some. The real die-hards, the cool kids like Leo and Mattia, they used to do this, too, except they went to the insane asylum that’s been condemned on Roosevelt Island. My friends and I, we were small-time compared to them, but this abandoned church, it was our strike at glory.

Remick’s Church, it used to be called. Indeed, I catch sight of a faded signpost as we near the building.

The very reason we loved this spot so much makes it a death trap today. There’s only one access road, no surveillance, no police patrols. It’s as much a no-man’s-land as anyone can find in this area of New York.

Leo doesn’t stand a chance.

The car stops, and the men pull me out. The coarse chippings on the ground dig into my bare feet; they didn’t give me any shoes to wear, and I lost mine sometime during my arrival at the locale they were keeping me in. I’m dragged wincing and hissing up the three steps to the church door, where my ‘groom’ meets me.

Jasir is still in the violet suit. I won’t ever be able to look at this color again and not associate it with evil.

He grins as his men hand me off to him, the very image of a hopeful, expectant groom receiving his blushing bride in church. He takes my hand and tucks it in the crook of his elbow, then he starts us down the aisle.

“I’m not a big fan of music,” he says in the silence broken only by the soft whispers of the wind in the eroded stone of the walls. “There’s something about the sound of silence, don’t you think, dearest?”

I remain silent.

He stops, and his other hand comes up on mine and squeezes my fingers hard. I gasp under the sharp pain.

“I didn’t mean that literally,” he said. “You will answer me when I speak to you.”

“Y-yes,” I stammer, stars dancing in front of my eyes as he still hasn’t released my fingers.

“Good.” He chuckles, then lets go of my hand and resumes our walk. “Remember why you’re doing this. You made a promise, and now, you’ll honor it. I don’t touch children, but yours can still be made an orphan. Just like my men walked into your brother’s house earlier…”

He doesn’t need to add more. I know what he means. With a pang plunging my heart into a bottomless abyss, I know he’s telling me he can kill anyone I hold dear with just a snap of his fingers.

My father made this promise for me, to marry into the Abrashi family, but it is I who would’ve had to honor it in the end.

The past has caught up with me.

An old man steps up near the altar. A priest, it seems like. He’s bearded and wears a coiffe on his head and a robe with a long, gilded stole in front.

“I must admit, dearest, I am very much looking forward to our wedding night,” Jasir whispers in my ear. “And just knowing you’re not wearing anything under this dress…” He laughs. “Naughty minx. I’m a lucky man, wouldn’t you say?”

I’m tempted to throw up again, then I remember how he forced me to choke it down the last time he was around me. So I steel myself and straighten my back.

“Wouldn’t you say?” he asks again, as if through clenched teeth.

I also recall the press of his tight hold on my fingers. There’s no way I’ll welcome such pain.

“Y-yes,” I stammer again.

He chuckles, which makes him sound like a psychopath. As long as I agree with him, he’s happy and just deranged. When I cross him, he gets all fucked up. Neither is a palatable option, but this type of man, he’s unpredictable. The best thing to do is keep him amenable.

And as this thought dawns on me, I know what I must now do.

Jasir is looking forward to our wedding night. He’s a possessive man who didn’t allow his soldiers to see me naked earlier. He will want privacy to consummate our wedding, which means he will spirit us away once the ceremony is over.

All I wanted to do earlier was stall. Leo would come, and he would save me. But there’s at least a dozen armed men with us in this church. Even with a crew, Leo could get killed.

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