Gianni had shown me that he valued honesty, that he respected my courage to speak the truth even when it meant condemning my own brother.
Perhaps that was something I could build on.
However, I wasn’t naïve either.
I knew that Gianni was still a dangerous man—a man who ruled through blood-curdling fear and deadly violence.
But perhaps within the confines of this marriage, I could find a way to balance the scales, to ensure that my voice was heard, that I wasn’t just a pawn in his game.
If he cared enough to fear my rejection, then maybe I could leverage that care to gain some autonomy.
As these thoughts swirled in my mind, the priest raised the knife in the air and grabbed my attention back.
Seriously. . .what is he going to do with that?
Gianni let go of my hand and whispered, “Take off your glove. Then, place your hand in front of you and show the priest your palm.”
Uh. . .I don’t think. . .I want to do that.
Still, I took off my glove.
Gianni did what he’d told me. He placed his own huge hand out and showed the priest his palm.
Nervous, I did the same.
So. . .he’s not going to cut us or anything right?
“This is not just a wedding or a marriage.” The priest kept the blade in the air. “This is an oath. Our covenant. An allegiance sealed by blood. And this has been tradition in the Fortunato Family for generations.”
Okay. That’s cool, but. . .are you going to cut us?
The priest continued, “We shed blood today under the witness of God.”
Oh no. I think he is going to cut us.
“For love and loyalty only flows through blood.”
I feel like love and loyalty can flow through water and hugs and things that don’t involve cutting me.
As if Gianni could hear my thoughts, he whispered to me, “Everything will be alright. It will barely hurt.”
Sure. Says the person that just cut off a hand.
The priest stepped forward.
My stomach churned.
And then a gasp tore from my lips as the priest took the blade and sliced through Gianni’s palm.
What?!
Blood welled up against Gianni’s pale palm, staining his skin and dripping onto the marble floor, yet Gianni didn’t even flinch.
Oh no. That’s going to hurt.
The priest turned to me.
I tried not to whimper, but I couldn't help it.
