Don't test me

Derrick stood frozen, hands up, fear clear on his face. His eyes begged Nora for answers , but he could only see fear in her eyes, she couldn’t look at him. Not with Lorenzo moving behind her like a dark shadow.

Lorenzo put the pistol away, like slipping a pen in his pocket. He grabbed Derrick’s shoulder and pushed him aside roughly. The crowd gasped. Whispers spread like snakes. The priest stood still, eyes wide, sweat on his face. He held his Bible like a weak shield.

Lorenzo moved to Nora’s side at the altar. He owned the spot like it was always his. He lifted her veil gently, but his eyes were stormy. “Wasting this pretty face on him?” he said softly, his smirk cutting sharp.

Nora’s lips shook. Words stuck in her throat. Her body felt numb, trapped by his stare, strong and claiming, but something felt wrong, like his smell was off in the fear.

He turned to the priest, voice cold and clear like breaking ice. “Do your job.”

The priest stuttered, “I—I can’t—”

“Want to see your wife tonight, padre?” Lorenzo asked, not looking at him. The threat was soft but hard.

The priest swallowed hard. His hands shook on the pages. “D-Do you, Lorenzo Alexander, take Nora Davis to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Lorenzo said, his voice strong as steel.

Nora’s heart dropped. Sickness hit her stomach. The church blurred into a mix of broken colors.

The priest looked at her, unsure. Lorenzo leaned close, his breath warm in her ear—a sweet whisper turned mean. “Say it, Mi Reina. Say ‘I do’… or Lia pays for your mistake.”

Her jaw tightened. Nails dug into her hands. She wanted to yell, scratch his face, grab Lia and run. But Lia sat in the front row, so young and open, holding her flowers tight like a lucky charm. Lorenzo never lied about threats, not after the blood she’d spilled, thinking it killed him.

Nora pushed out the words, sour like vomit. “I do.”

The priest closed the Bible fast. The snap sounded like a judge’s hammer. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Lorenzo’s face went hard. The smirk vanished. “No need for that,” he said flat, his words cutting like a knife. The crowd moved uneasy. Whispers started but stopped under his cold look. Nora let out a quick breath — half glad, half scared. What did he want, if not that old hold?

He turned to the crowd, like a king sending them away. “The wedding’s over. Everyone get out.”

Before Nora could move, sirens started—soft at first, then loud and sharp. Whispers blew up: “The police…”

BOOM!

The doors flew open. Four cops rushed in, guns out and yelling. “Drop your weapon! Hands up!”

Chaos broke loose like shots firing. Guests screamed. They ran for the doors in a wave of dresses and panic. Lia ran to Nora, her small hand grabbing tight with shaky strength.

Lorenzo didn’t move. He let out a low breath, almost laughing darkly, like this was just a break in the show. He turned, calm as death walking. One cop said quietly, “That’s Lorenzo Alexander.” Another swore low, “ I Should’ve stayed at the station—idiot.”

Lorenzo pulled out his phone, hit one button, and said softly, “Now.”

Ten seconds felt long like tight wire. Radios buzzed rough: “Stand down. Disengage. Orders from command.”

The cops stopped cold. Guns lowered in shock. “You’re kidding,” one said quietly, putting his gun away with heavy hands.

Lorenzo put the phone away, calm as ever. He looked at Lia, then Nora. His face changed, a hunter’s shine turning soft, like he saw a puzzle. “Let’s go.”

He waved at the doors. Lia waited a second, anger in her eyes, then walked next to him, head high. Nora followed, her heels hitting the floor like bad news. They passed Derrick, still standing, his life in pieces. The priest shook in the corner. Guests stared quietly in shock.

No music. No flowers. Just the empty feel of what could have been.

The black SUV waited like a big animal, dark windows hiding everything. Nora sat stiff on the seat, Lia’s hand squeezed hard in hers. Across the dark space, Lorenzo sat easily, arms on his knees, smoke from his cigar twisting around him like a snake.

Lia scrunched her nose, brave as anything. “Mr. Kidnapper, your cigarette stinks.”

Nora’s heart jumped. “Lia, hush—please.”

Lorenzo’s eyes went to the girl, blank at first. Then his mouth twitched. A dry laugh came out deep and rough, but a bit too high, like from the wrong voice. Nora’s skin got goosebumps; that sound... it felt off somehow. “Mr. Kidnapper?” he said back, his Spanish accent warm for a quick moment. “I took your sister, not you, pequeña bruja.”

Lia folded her arms, not scared. “Still rude. And it’s a cigar, not cigarette , don’t think I’m dumb.”

He looked at her, the fun staying a second too long, like checking a tricky toy. Then he opened the window, threw the cigar out into the dark, and closed it quickly. “Happy now?”

“Much,” Lia said back, smiling smallly through her worry.

Nora’s heart beat fast, caught between fear and this weird change. Lorenzo, like kid’s talk? It didn’t match the man she’d stabbed. He leaned back, a small smile hanging. “She’s got a big mouth.”

“She’s a kid,” Nora said sharply, voice low like a snap, her other hand moving over Lia’s shoulder to protect her. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

His eyes hit hers quickly. The warmth went cold like ice breaking, smile gone. “Good. Keep it that way. For her good.”

The SUV stopped at tall gates, iron bars like teeth, walls thick like old fights, guards stepping back with head nods. A quiet talk spread: “The boss is back.” The gates closed loudly behind them, locking the outside away.

Nora’s stomach hurt as the car drove up the long path, past fountains shooting shiny water drops into the night and gardens cut perfectly. It looked like a nice place . Green grass under lights, red roses by stone statues. But she knew the truth. Under the pretty hid sharp edges that could cut deep.

This wasn’t heaven. It was a fancy jail, bars made of money and secrets.

When the car stopped, Lorenzo got out first. He didn’t give a hand—didn’t have to. His being there pulled her like hidden ropes, strong and tight.

Nora got out, holding Lia’s hand hard, like a last rope. Stone steps went up, wide and cold in the moonlight. Guards stood on both sides, eyes hard, guns over their chests like warnings.

The air felt heavy. Thick with a sweet flower smell and something bad like a storm coming.

Inside, the big house wrapped in rich stuff mixed with danger: shiny floors bouncing their steps, glass lights hanging like cold drops, the smell of skinny chairs, old smoke, and a real threat. Everything screamed money and power.

At the bottom of the big stairs curved wood and iron—Lorenzo spoke at last. His voice was low and scratchy, with that strange off-sound, like rocks under different feet. “Take the girl.”

Nora’s heart jumped hard. “No!” She moved forward fast, pulling Lia behind her, eyes begging the man she thought dead. Not her. Please, not her.

Lia’s fingers held tighter. Her voice was a strong whisper. “Nora—”

Lorenzo’s eyes cut into them, sharp like a knife in the dark. “You’ll see her soon. Don’t test me, Mi Reina.” The words warned bad, his body like a wall, the soft from the car gone hard.

A maid came from the dark, older, kind eyes but strong in her clean clothes, like part of the machine but sorry. She bent a little, pulling Lia’s hand free with quiet words. Nora missed in her head noise. “Come with me, miss. Just for now.”

Lia gave Nora one last look, a look of hopelessness, then she let go. The maid took her down a side way, steps getting quiet in the house’s big quiet.

Nora felt empty inside, like a cup with nothing left. Her sister gone. Alone with him now. The heavy of it fell hard, worse than any rope. Was this how she was going to die? She asked herself inside.