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Honestly? With the gun safely hidden inside the flowers, I felt better. More in control of the situation.
Damian guided me down the hall. The halls were oddly silent; if this was a normal wedding, it’d be all hustle and bustle, with the waitstaff running around and the groomsmen and bridesmaids all adding to the chaos. There’d be more guests, more people wandering about; just more, generally speaking.
But this was no normal wedding. This was Miguel’s attempt at taking all the power for himself and creating the perfect scapegoat to blame.
We walked to the glass doors that opened out into the garden that the building surrounded, where the ceremony would be held. The doors were propped open, and I could see a carpet lining the few steps outside, down to the grassy area. From where we were, I could not see Miguel, nor could I see the audience or even Ezekiel. I assumed they were farther in.
Course, I could hardly see much as it was, thanks to this stupid veil. But, alas, the veil was a necessary evil.
“Good luck, baby girl,” Damian whispered, and then he let me go.
Both hands gripped the bouquet, and I stepped outside, holding my head high and walking as best I could down the few steps into the garden, given the fact that I couldn’t see next to anything. The rolled-out carpet beneath my feet told me where to go, and when I made a right turn in the gardens, I stopped.
A piano had been moved into the garden, and the moment the pianist saw me, he began to play. I did not know if the pianist was one of Miguel’s men or simply an acceptable loss of civilian life, if Miguel’s plan went through, but it wouldn’t matter.
Ezekiel told everyone to stand, and the audience—comprised of Black Hand members, wives, and heirs, all stood and turned to face me. Miguel stood beside Ezekiel, holding his hands together behind his back, a look of smug superiority on his face. Slightly upturned nose, no happiness at all residing in those pitch-black eyes.
It was the first time I’d seen him since… since he handed me over, told me the whole truth, and did what he did to me. The memory of that day came rushing back into my mind, flooding my senses, and it caused me to freeze up.
Not for long, though. I forced myself to keep going, to walk down that aisle with a slow, unhurried pace. As I walked, I could not take my eyes off Miguel. The tightness of his lips. The narrowed way his eyes ate me up because he thought it was Gianna under here, not me.
I hated him. I hated him more than I hated Rocco. This was the man that had made my life so full of misery, the man who had done his damnedest to make me want to die. He gave me to Rocco Moretti for a single night just to fuck with me and my true father. There were no limits to the depths of depravity this man would sink to.
The anger, the rage, the righteous fury inside me; they were almost overpowering, enough to make me want to yank my gun out of the bouquet right then and there and be done with this facade already. But my gaze blurred away from Miguel and instead focused on Ezekiel, standing near him, holding onto a bible. His black hair was slicked back, his blue eyes lively and bright, reflecting the sunlight over our heads. The way that man watched me walk down the aisle was enough to calm me down.
I wasn’t alone here. I had to remember that.
Once I mimicked Miguel’s stance on Ezekiel’s other side, Ezekiel addressed the audience, telling them they may be seated. As he began to speak, I kept my eyes trained on Miguel. Through the veil, I could tell he was now studying me, as if he was trying to remember whether Gianna had ever mentioned wearing a veil.
I’d bet anything Miguel never really listened to her. It wasn’t a far stretch of the imagination, since he’d never really listened to me, either.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony,” Ezekiel rattled off. “We are here to celebrate the love shared between these two people as they come together to start their new life with a solemn vow, surrounded by their closest family and friends.”
I had to resist rolling my eyes at that. Miguel Santos having friends? Please. Even if this wasn’t a planned massacre on his part, the people here wouldn’t be his friends. Business associates, sure. Extended family, maybe. But definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent no friends. The man was friendless.
Ezekiel divided his time between glancing at Miguel and at me as he said, “This ceremony celebrates the beginning of your marriage. It’s a journey of love, understanding, perseverance, and dedication to one another that lasts through time. As we stand here today to mark this occasion, we remember that what matters most is not the ceremony itself, but the love and companionship you will continue to share throughout your married life together. Now, to honor the strength of love and the role it plays in our lives, I will read two passages that have been chosen by the bride and groom.”
He then played the script; he went through the whole damned thing. The next part involved reading two short passages from the bible. I was not well-versed in the bible and all of its passages, but as I stood there, listening to Ezekiel, I was momentarily thrown back in time.
Father Charlie’s masses. How he seemed to be talking directly to you when he was behind the stand. The way he could make even the most boring stories from that old book sound interesting and new, even though they’d been told countless times before.
This, what I was about to do, wasn’t just for me. It was for him, too. For my real dad.
Next it was time for the vows. Ezekiel instructed Miguel to take my hand and repeat after him, which left me holding onto the bouquet with the other. Miguel’s hand on mine felt wrong, even with the glove separating us.
My heart hammered fast as Ezekiel started, “Gianna Melendez, I promise from this day until my last I will love you, care for you, and celebrate you.”
Now Miguel smirked—because it was time. He began to repeat the words, the start of his vow, as he assumed his men were surrounding the garden, getting into position, “Gianna Melendez, I promise from this day until my last I will love you, care for you, and celebrate you.”
Ezekiel went on, “You are my closest friend, my other half, and the one that I will treasure forever.” After Miguel repeated him, he said, “I dedicate my energy to bringing you days filled with laughter, joy, tenderness, and unwavering love.”
“I dedicate my energy to bringing you days filled with laughter, joy, tenderness, and unwavering love,” Miguel spoke, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Ezekiel glanced at me. “Now, Gianna, repeat after me.” Before he could say anything else, Miguel lifting his free hand in the air—his signal, I assume, for his men to come out in the open and start shooting.
Only that didn’t happen. No one came out of the gardens, out of the bushes. No one at all. Miguel was alone as he stood there, his hand in the air, and as it slowly dawned on him no one was coming out, his hand dropped and he looked all around.
Ezekiel had stopped reciting the vows I was supposed to repeat, silence overtaking the entire garden. Miguel’s thick brows came together, and he whipped his head down the aisle, spotting someone, one of the people he was waiting for.
