Page 147 of King of Obsession

My eyes flicked around, resting on a shotgun that had been placed on the front chair, Franco’s, I assumed.

I considered rushing for it and turning it on him.

Until his hand gripped my upper arm and yanked me to the altar.

I tried to free myself from Franco’s grip.

The old mofo held on for life’s sake, and I blinked back my rage as the officiant, a Catholic priest I did not recognize, cleared his throat.

‘We are gathered here today,’ he said, ‘to witness the joining of two souls.’

Franco’s leathery and weathered fist clutched mine with a grip that signaled more possession than affection.

His sons and the capos fixed bleary eyes on us, their faces a blur of indifference and silent judgment.

Please come soon, honey,I thought, my mind racing as the priest droned on about love and duty.

My voice was trapped in my throat, and my lips pressed together tight as I stared at the clergyman, refusing to give Franco even one iota of my attention.

I stared dead ahead, seeing nothing but my life, narrowed to a single, suffocating path.

Franco squeezed my hands, pulling me back to the present.

His smile was crooked, more of a grimace than anything else, and the yellowed teeth peeking through his mouth made me swallow hard.

He leaned closer, his breath sour and stale, as he whispered, ‘You’ll learn to love me, Cleo Michele. You’ll see.’

I wanted to pull away, to run far from this place, but my feet stayed glued to the spot. Instead, I glared at him. ‘In yourfreakin’ dreams.’

The priest cleared his throat, signaling it was time for the vows.

My heart pounded so intensely that I was sure everyone could hear it.

Franco’s voice was raspy as he spoke his lines, each word heavy with the finality of a trap closing in. When it was my turn, I faltered, the words sticking in my gullet.

‘Fuckin say it,’ Franco hissed, leaning into me, his claw-like hands digging sharp into me.

I glared up at him as a wave of nausea washed over me, churned by my storm-tossed soul.

Just then, a flash of lightning lit up the barn, casting everything in stark, brilliant relief.

The barn’s doors flew open, and the wind rushed in with a force that sent the flames in the lanterns flickering and the flowers on the altar swaying.

A shadow stepped into view.

Tall, muscled, a golden god of wrath, menacing, breathtaking.

Two lethal weapons were brandished in his hands, and a curl of scorn played on his lips.

My entire being jolted even as my soul lifted.

ALESSIO

‘One more word, or move from any of you jokers here, and I’ll rip all your fucking throats out,’ I growled, meaning every syllable.

The wedding party turned to face me, eyes widening and mouths gaping.

I stood at the threshold of the makeshift barn chapel, my Sig in one hand and a 12 gauge in the other.

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