Chapter 7 - The Blood Wedding
We had married in a courthouse, a quiet affair to seal the legalities. But after the Rossi attack, I needed to make a public statement. A demonstration of absolute power. We hosted a formal wedding reception at the grand cathedral downtown, inviting every mob boss, politician, and judge in the state.
Emma looked breathtaking in a custom silk gown. The press called it a modern Cinderella story. The underworld knew it was a declaration of war.
During the reception, as I pulled Emma onto the dance floor, I noticed Marcus pacing near the exits. His eyes were shifting rapidly. My instincts, honed by decades of violence, screamed at me.
Suddenly, the grand doors burst open. Armed men in tactical gear flooded the lobby. But they weren't Rossis.
“Get down!” I shoved Emma to the marble floor just as the first volley of automatic fire shattered the stained glass windows. I drew my sidearm, returning fire, but we were pinned.
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I looked up and saw Marcus walking calmly toward the attackers, unharmed. He wasn't running from them. He was commanding them.
“It’s time for new management, Preston,” Marcus yelled over the gunfire. “You let a maid and a mute kid make you weak.”
