Page 97 of Coerced Wife

My signal.

My voice is clear, but my mind is fuzzy. “I do.”

Dante steps forward. He gives Saverio a ring, a simple white gold band that he pushes over my finger to fit against my engagement ring. Then Dante gives me another ring, a similar but broader one. I do the same, wiggling it over Saverio’s finger.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The words are distorted. They reach me through a ringing in my ears.

Saverio cups my face and pulls me closer. He lowers his head, watching me with unspoken promises and frightening intentions burning in his eyes as his soft, warm,minty exhale feathers over my mouth. I hold my breath, my heart stuttering in my chest, but before he closes the last hairbreadth of distance and touches his lips to mine, a boom resonates through the space.

I give a start.

Saverio freezes.

Light spills into the somber interior, fanning out to every corner and cutting wedges over the walls. A rush of crispy, cold air barrels down the aisle.

My body breaks out in goosebumps. I notice everything—how quickly that frosty bite dispels the comfortable temperature, the way the sunbeams light up the stained-glass windows in reds and greens, the smell of the wintry afternoon tainted with burnt meat from the food cart across the road, and the crooked line of smoke from the incense on the altar as the thin ribbon bends toward the breeze.

A murmur rises from the pews.

Saverio jerks his face toward the doors.

Someone opened them.

Confusion rides on the disoriented quiet that follows as the priest goes still and everyone turns in their seats.

I blink my eyes to adjust to the too-bright, too-sudden light.

A man stands in the open doors. His silhouette is black against the pure white snow outside. The shape is stocky and squarish, the neckless head attached straight to the shoulders.

For a moment, I think he’s not human, that he’s a ghost from our past, a man knifed down in an alley who came to contest our union from the grave. But then another three dark figures appear behind him, and the illusion dissipates. I notice the outlines of the automatic firearms in their hands at the same time Dante shouts, “Get down.”

Dante’s warning is not yet cold when Saverio grasps my shoulders and spins me toward the altar, placing his body like a shield between me and the danger.

A scream catches in my throat as gunshots tear through the space. The air is squeezed from my lungs when Saverio wraps his arms in a death grip around me. He hunches over, covering my length while pulling me into the protection of his chest.

More shots ring out.

Saverio’s body jerks against mine as if he’s caught in a hailstorm.

A wave of panic rolls through me. “Sav!”

He grunts as another round of shots goes off, each explosion an onslaught that rips into his back and shakes him violently. I feel every one of those bullets that eats into his flesh. The force of the blows tears him apart, again and again, but not once does he loosen his arms around me.

“Sav!”

I cling to him.

This can’t be happening.

It’s just a nightmare.

Please, wake up.

Gunpowder fumes and weeping hang in the air while the candles burn tranquilly, their flames winking from the shadows. The soft flickering of the golden light adds to the illusion that we’re only trapped in a bad dream. Yet the trickle of blood that runs down Saverio’s neck and splashes in red blotches on my white dress is real.

Survival instinct kicks in. My brain shuts down. I don’t think about the bullets or the grunts of the men going down around us. I don’t think about how badly Saverio is wounded. That’s for later. All I focus on is getting him away from here. Getting him help.

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