CHAPTER FOUR

Blood splattered all over my face, staining my red lips and my gown. I was unfazed, looking into the former alive eyes of my husband.

My dead husband.

All hell broke loose, someone dived at me, while I watched Christain’s body slump to the ground. The priest has hunched behind the altar, kissing his rosary and muttering what I assumed to be prayers.

Who would dare shoot up a Mafia wedding? The answer was pretty clear, a rival family. The Russo family was a target of many people, they all wanted to be us.

I pushed the body against mine, noticing quickly it was my eldest brother.

“Rafael, I can't breathe,” I hushed out. He raised himself up from me briefly while removing the gun from his back holster. After firing off a few quick shots, he pulled me up.

I ignored the feeling of blood on my lips and face,the fact that my dress had red flecks on it. I just followed my brother's lead, we had been trained since we were young. Put your head down, follow the nearest male and run to safety.

I followed my brother closely, noting that my mum and sister were being pushed into a car and driven away. At least they had gotten out of the church safely. We stepped out into the parking lot, his car doors already open when something stopped us in our tracks.

It was a man. He wore a black suit, even better than my father did. The suit looked like it belonged on his skin, like it was made specially for him. I looked up at his face, breaking the first safety tip I had been told.

This was a man of shadows, a man my father had sworn didn't exist, yet many times at night, I heard him curse at them. A man straight out of my nightmares. A man I hoped would never recognize me.

“I fratelli Drago”, also known as the Draghi Brothers, were the worst nightmare of many Mafia lords. No one knew where exactly they came from, all we knew was they built a family, fast. Killing all their competitors, taking over families.

They had murdered a boss last year, because he spilled a drink on one of them in spite. I had enjoyed watching them, following all their updates. My father called them monsters.

I remembered the first time he spoke about them. They had stolen his cocaine supply, he said. I later realized that the Russians decided to do business with them because they didn't steal from them like my papa did. I was 20, and that was a stressful year for us, Mama genuinely thought we would be killed.

The first time I put a face to the names, I screamed out. Mama has looked at me weirdly, like I was sick. Then she patted me softly, telling me it was okay to be scared of monsters.

How could I explain to my mother that these men, these monsters were the reason for all my desires and passions. They were the reason I couldn't sleep at night without rubbing my clit till I came, muttering names of people that I couldn't know? How could I explain to my mother that they were my sickest, most longed for nightmare?

I looked straight at one of the objects of all my desires, my wants, my needs. The man who marked me. I still remember how the feel of his eyes on my face, my thighs while his brother inked me. I still remembered how I wished I could go far enough to tell them what the feel of the needle was doing to my body.

Achilles Draghi stood face to face with me, a devious grin on his face. “Well, we can't let you go anywhere, dear bride.”

And he shot my brother in the head.

I let out a ferocious scream, slumping down after him. Choked sobs came out of my throat. Rafael may have not been a good man in life but he was a good brother. He loves me, in his own way. Brought me gifts from his travels, listened to me.

“No, no no”, I choked out crying harder.

“You didn't have to kill him,” I screamed at Achilles, hating him on the spot. “Really?”, he snickered.

He pointed to my brother’s body and I saw the gun in his hand.

“My father will have your head for this,” I said. I looked around and we were alone, everyone else had fled.

“Your father,” Achilles repeated. “Who is your father?”he asked.

“Richard Russo,” I gritted out of my teeth.

“Well, damn. I had no beef with your father. Yet.”

Beef?

“The Donovan family committed a big crime against us, you see. We are just collecting back.”

Us?

Were they all here?

I hated myself. My brother's cold body was next to me and all I could think of was if the three brothers, including the one that killed him were present.

As if we had wished for their arrivals, two figures came out of the church building.

Xiomar and Emilio Draghi, stepped out, guns hanging from their frame, blood staining their boots. I wondered just how many people they had just murdered right now. I thought about how good they looked.

Emilio has dyed his hair blonde, making him look sunnier than his brothers. We all knew that was a lie, the rumors said differently. And Xiaomar, he was so tall. I wondered if I never noticed his full height because he was sat during my tattoo session.

“Who do we have here?” Emilio grinned, showing me bloodstained teeth. His white T-shirt was covered with blood and I visibly grimaced.

“Please princess, one of your pretty guards gave me a hard time. I had to bite his ear off,”he drawled like that was a sane thing to say.

I should be scared, and I was. The last time I was in the presence of these men, they didn't look and feel as hard as they do now. They were nobodies. I hoped they wouldn't recognize me.

“You're the bride?”, Xiomar asked. I nodded, remembering that Mafia men loved a quiet woman. “You look oddly familiar.

My gown covered my thighs luckily, as I knelt next to my brother's body. I could hear a drum, one I quickly recognized was my heart beat. They wouldn't notice.

“She's a don's daughter. They were probably selling her to those low life Donovans.” Achilles replied.

“She's pretty. Blood suits her skin.” Emilio commented.

It was good they were stalling to kill me. Discussions were nice. I could plead for my life.

I cleared my throat. “Please, I did nothing wrong. My papa will pay you any—”

“What does she think her father has any say?” Xiomar barked out a laugh. His brothers had similar expressions of amusement on their faces.

“Sweetheart, your father is poor. Dirt poor. It's probably why he was getting you married today.” Achilles said.

“Well, that's it. You can die with that knowledge,” he pulled his gun out.

“Wait.”

I wrapped around myself, waiting for the bullet to hit me when Emilio told his brother to wait.

“Why exactly have you stopped me? You cannot keep pets Emilio—”

“Look,” Emilio said, pointing at me. I followed the directions of his hands to my thighs, where my slit has shifted, exposing the dragon head.

“Is that what I think it is?” Xiomar whispered?

Achilles face was stoic, his eyes hardening. “It could be fake.”

Emilio walked to me and squatted. He lifted his hands to my lips and I moved away on instinct. I felt hunted.

His hands reached down to my laps, sliding the silk materials, exposing more of my flesh. I looked straight into his blue eyes. He has a cut, like a knife slash. I wanted to touch it.

“Are you the little bird we did this on?” He whispered.

I could lie. I could have said it was just a very good copy. I had so many choices. There and then, I sealed my fate with the next words I said.

“Yes.”

He stood to his full height. “There was a reason you were so familiar,” said Xiomar. “Let me see.”

He gestures for me to walk towards him and I did. I pulled the sides of the gown, raising it higher and showing him his art. Xiomar whistled.

“Yeah, it's her, all right.”

Achilles bristled in anger.

“We said no witnesses,”he seethed.

Emilio shrugged. “A lot of people escaped. We just managed to surprise them and shoot the second son.”

Christian.

“Why?”

My question seemed to amuse them. “Why? She asks us why?”

Xiomar looked away, into the sun. “The cops will show up soon. We have to go.”

Achilles knelt next to me.

“Because your Daddy is a piece of shit. Now get up and walk.”