Page 36 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
Torin smirks and heads out into the church, leaving me no option but to follow him to the altar.
As I take my position, my head jerks left and right.
The church is almost empty. Other than me, Torin, and Father Luigi, three impossibly good-looking men who must be his brothers stand on one side.
Salvatore stands on the other.
And in the front pew Uncle Anthony sits with a pretty woman in a red dress who offers me a supportive smile that totally fails to support.
The place is almost empty, but it feels too full, like all the air’s being stolen and sucked out. Sweat beads on the back of my neck and drizzles down the slope of my spine.
Salvatore’s gaze bites into me. It’s a savage look, a threat. The man at his side must be his second.
I shift my eyes back to Uncle Anthony who tries to smile like the woman he’s sitting with. Her eyes are on the brother I met. Callahan. And his are dark and flinty, except when they touch her. The other two exude a charmthat belies their ruthlessness. They’re mafia, after all. And related to Torin.
Animals. All of them.
I clutch the flowers so tight the stalks start to crush.
Father Luigi begins to speak in Latin, and it becomes clear this is no normal wedding when he lays out a white cloth and a big, sharp dagger that he sprinkles with holy water.
“Raise your left hand and promise me, your God, and the church that you have made this union in good faith and what is Hazel’s belongs to Torin.”
I stare at him, stomach roiling. “I… do.”
“Hazel is Torin’s forever, his property, his wife. Swear you will honor this arrangement.”
Ugh, that’s so gross.
“Hazel,” Torin murmurs, so low I barely hear him. I slant him a look. His hand is raised, too. “Say the words.”
I swallow my pride, my outrage. “I do.”
“Torin, Hazel is yours to own to do with what you will,” Father Luigi says. “To keep and to protect. What is hers is now yours, including all of her, even her blood. Will you honor this?”
“I will and do.”
His words shake me down to my core.
“Hands,” Father Luigi says. “Please.”
I hold out mine as does Torin and Luigi takes my wrist as panic beats its wings in my throat. But all he does is lightly slice the knife over my palm, and keeping the pressure on my wrist, he drips the blood on the cloth.
He does the same to Torin.
“Mingle your blood together so the first part is complete.”
He goes back to Latin as Torin takes my hand, linking our fingers and pulling me against him. “You’re all mine to do with what I will, and I can’t wait.”
Torin then kisses me.
It’s not much of a kiss, but the shock of it elevates it into something else. Because the last thing I expected, even though this is some kind of insane wedding, is for him to slip me tongue in church.
My head spins as he breaks the kiss and then, without giving me a second to breathe and process what just happened between us, he hoists me over his shoulder and carries me toward the stairwell.
“Let me go. I can walk,” I say, struggling in his strong arms. I hit his back with my fists and the flowers, wriggling like a maniac. If I can get free of his grip, maybe I can run into the tunnels or?—
He stops. “Keep doing that and I’ll deliberately throw us both down the stairs and break our necks.”
