Carnage Comic

"Do you Mrs Chantel McCarty take Mr Dominic Winfrey as your lawfully wedded husband till death do you apart?" The priest ask the average woman glaring at the man on a retro suit. If look could kill, then Dominic would be unconscious right now. "No, I don't" her replied shocked everyone especially her parents. "As the matter fact, I know nothing about this " she added. The priest eyes was widened like that of a watermelon. "But who cares, I don't have damn right to make my own decision. I'm sure Mr Demonic, oh sorry, I meant to say Dominic, would say Yes, so you should proceed Mr Priest, there's no need for you to ask since you know you can't stop this wedding. Gawd! my foot is killing me" She reach down and took off her heels. When she was done she took a deep breath and smiled to everyone in the hall not noticing Dominic cold glare on her. "Mr Dominic Winf..." "Yes I do" Dominic glared at the Priest who shuddered in fear. Poor him. "I now pro..noun you both a..as Hus..band a..and wife" The priest stammer. The wife was crazy and the husband was scary. ___ Being the most feared and ruthless Billionaire, Dominic Winfrey had a lot of rivals. Due to the pressure from his family to settle down and in order to protect his company from hostile take over, he have no choice but to proposed a marriage to the McCarthy family first daughter. The two families decided to merge for business collaboration. Unfortunately for him, Chantel McCarthy wasn't that type of a submissive woman. In fact she is the opposite of a perfect wife. Soon, series of comic events escalates in between them.

I stepped closer. Close enough to smell his cologne—cedarwood, leather, and power. My hand moved. Smooth, practiced. The pistol slide from under the apron into my palm. I raised it fast. But before I could pull the trigger— BANG. Not my shot. A scream tore through the restaurant as another man launched himself toward Romano’s table, blade flashing. Another assassin. What the hell— Romano didn’t flinch. He shoved the table forward, knocking the attacker off balance. The blade scraped across wood, not skin. I ducked instinctively as the room erupted into chaos. Gunfire cracked. Glass exploded. People screamed and dove for cover. “Get him out—NOW!” one of the guards barked. I aimed for the second attacker. Didn’t even hesitate. One shot—head. Gone. The guard saw me. Confusion flashed in his eyes. Then rage. I ran. I weaved between overturned chairs, plates, and screaming bodies. The smell of blood was real now, thick in the air. One of the guards grabbed me. I slammed my elbow into his ribs, twisted, and brought the butt of my gun down on his skull. He dropped like a sack of bricks. Out. I had to get out. My boots pounded the floor as I tore through the narrow hallway. But then— “Elisa.” His voice stopped me cold. I turned. Antonio Romano stood in the middle of the carnage, suit untouched, blood spattered behind him like art. His eyes were on me. And he was smiling. It was darker. Slower. Like a hunter seeing something worth chasing. Somehow, he knew who I was. “Interesting,” he said softly, tilting his head. “They sent you.” I didn’t answer. I ran. But that voice followed me. He knew my name. And he let me go. This wasn’t over. It had just begun.