Page 2 of City of Salvation

My panic was pushed aside by the pain radiating from my ring finger as Yuri shoved an offending piece of jewelry on me at the priest’s direction. Asshole had probably made it too small on purpose so I’d never be able to take it off.

At the end of a trail of angry red skin sat a diamond-encrusted band that glinted under the sunlight, peeking through the church’s stained-glass windows. How appropriate that I was being wed before the depiction of the crucifixion.

Death was always destined to be a part of this bastardly union.

Icy fingers slid across my cheek, directing my attention away from my hand and into the eyes of my enemy.

“My bride, you’d better give our guests a show of a proper kiss, or you willnotenjoy your wedding night,” he taunted, his stifling breath sweeping across my face, stealing the air I needed in order to breathe. Disgust rolled through me as he plastered his mouth against mine, biting and sucking the plump flesh of my lower lip while I stood there unmoving, fists clenched.

The disgust was followed quickly by an anger that ran so hot I was sure his hands would burn where they gripped my biceps. He pulled away, his face smug, and I nearly broke my teeth, biting back my snarl.

Resist spitting in his face. Wait for the signal.

I sent up a silent prayer that god would smite this man where he stood. Hell, I’d take a vow of celibacy and serveonly the church if he would open up the ground to swallow Yuri.

But, of course, my pleas went unanswered. For my sake, I was glad I’d learned to do what was needed to survive—otherwise, my evening would be spent consummating a marriage with the devil.

“I present you, Mr. And Mrs. Sokolov,” the officiant declared, causing the church to break out in applause as Yuri swung me around, presenting me like some sort of prize. Most of the people in attendance didn’t give a fuck about the wedding, much less me. They just didn’t want to be on Yuri’s bad side. Unrest had broken out in St. Petersburg, and the Bratva was quietly splintering, factions rising up in secret.

My wedding was about to be the catalyst for the streets running red with blood.

My newhusbandjust didn’t know it yet.

I glanced at the confession booth to my left, searching the blackened spaces between the latticework for proof that Viktor was in place. Worry crept up my spine as the seconds ticked on, sweat dripping from my brow.

Why hadn’t I insisted on being here when he hid so I knew they would hold up their end of the deal?

Then, from one breath to the next, chaos erupted.

An ear-piercing shriek rang out, sprays of bullets bursting from the confessional booth and the other hiding spots of the Ruska Roma’s men. Maxim, Yuri’s right-hand man, jumped in front of my husband, using his body to shield his boss from the shrapnel raining down over the wedding party.

The iron grip on my arm disappeared as Yuri dropped to the floor and hurried to find cover. For a split second, I thought about what an awful fucking husband he was—he didn’t even consider my well-being during a goddamn ambush—but then I remembered I’d been banking on it.

Another round of gunfire popped off, this time from Maxim and Yuri, and I knew I needed to move while their attention was elsewhere. I scrambled to my feet, unsheathing the blade I had hidden under the excessive tulle.

Yuri’s and Maxim’s backs were to me as they hid behind the wooden altar, sending off retaliation rounds. People were pushing and shoving to make it out the back doors unscathed. The sounds of sobbing women were drowned out by gunfire and glass shattering.

All the calamity faded away, leaving nothing but the pounding in my ears, my feet carrying me forward. The shake in my hand was so bad I had to grip the hilt with both of them, but my determination and hatred overshadowed my fear.

“What do you think you are doing, girl?” My father’s voice cut through the muffled bubble my mind had created. “You need to get out of here. Yuri will have my head if his bride dies,” he said.

Any hope that the concern in my father’s tone was for my safety leeched from my soul.

“That’s what you’re concerned about? Howhewill react if I get hurt? Howyouwill be punished? Not whatIwill have to live through as his wife?” I yelled, distraught.

Blood meant nothing to him.

I meant nothing to him.

The flash of his anger told me he’d heard me despite the chaos, and my own anger and hurt fueled my moves, with no room left to think of the consequences.

He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a gurgled cry as I sank the blade intended for my husband into my father’s gut. Rage morphed into shock and horror as blood swallowed up the white of his dress shirt.

The sight was morbidly mesmerizing.

I might have grown up in the Bratva, but I’d always been shielded from the violence. The best spot to stab a person had never crossed my mind. Andrei had drilled into my mind and body where to aim at Yuri’s back, but he’d never gone over where to slide a blade if a man was facing me, or what it would look like once the blade was in someone’s flesh.

Survival instincts finally kicked in, and I pushed past my stunned father. “Death before betrayal,” I spat, running for my life.

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