Page 107 of Violent Attraction

That’s the signal.

Instead of watching Isabella walk down the aisle, I make my way out of the pew and with every single person in this church standing up, I’m able to make my way to the front.

I make it to the front of the chapel and through the door that leads to a small balcony that is on top of the altar.

My timing is impeccable as I make it to the balcony, which is covered in artificial vines, a good twenty seconds before Ronaldo and Isabella step in front of Emilio.

Moving a few vines out of the way to get a clear shot, I put on gloves, and I grab my automatic reloader from my waistband and screw on the silencer. The only people that will hear the shot will be the people in the front.

Could I have done this any other time besides a wedding?

Yes, yes, I could.

But we needed to make a statement. To both the Castro family and Ronaldo that not everything is about being powerful and money hungry. Not even in the cartel world.

I could have also done this point blank, but I rather Emilio keep all the attention for himself.

I situate myself on the floor of the balcony, the gun in the opening and I wait.

My eyes find Isabella right away and I watch as she makes the last final steps to Emilio. I switch my gaze to Leo quickly and he gives me a nod.

It’s time to kill this fucker.

Ronaldo places Isabella’s hand in Emilio’s and the music stops.

One beat.

Two.

My finger lands on the trigger and I shoot.

Forgive me father, for I have sinned in the house of God.

30

When in sight, blood will always be the main focal point. It’s bright and when you’re wearing something light colored, it stands out even more.

After I heard the shot ring out, the blood was the only thing I was able to concentrate on.

It wasn’t the screams or mass chaos that ensued right after. No, it was the blood splatters that had landed on my hand and on my dress.

I knew it wasn’t mine, since nothing in me hurt. Nothing felt like it was out of place.

So, whose was it?

The blood splatter on my arms was no longer what grabbed my attention. I frantically looked over to my father and he looked more in shock than anything else and he also only had blood splatter on him.

The blood had to come from in front of us.

My next line of sight was the man in front of me. The man whose hand my father just placed mine in.

Unlike my father and me, he wasn’t covered in just blood splatter, not the blood that was on him was different.

The spots were bigger and darker and seemed to be getting bigger as the seconds continued to tick by. He was the one that got hurt, it’s his blood that’s covering my hands and arms and coating my dress.

For a quick second our eyes met.

I’ve heard before that when a person gets shot or is near death, if they had done something bad in their life, their eyes would be filled with remorse and regret.

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