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If I had a knife, I might’ve stabbed him right then and there, but I’ll never know if I have that kind of hatred in me.
A second later, a symphony of music flutters through the air as the doors to the ceremony room swing open. Then, one by one, people move forward, filing into the room.
My father sticks out his elbow for me to hold, like Blaise did earlier. But unlike earlier, holding onto his arm brings me no comfort at all.
The first step makes my stomach tighten to the point where I’m convinced I’ll throw up. Yet, I manage to swallow down the sensation and take another step. And another. When we arrive at the entrance, the ceremony planner, a woman with blonde hair and the same shade of lipstick that’s on the collar of my father’s shirt, hands me a flowing bouquet of red and black roses. My hand is trembling so badly I swear I’m about to drop it. Then we’re entering the room where my ending is waiting for me, and my legs join my trembling hands.
I haven’t been in here before or seen any of the decorations because, like with my dress, my mother was in charge of everything. But if I were to envision what a mafia wedding should look like, this would be it.
The space is wide and circular, and the walls and ceiling are black with glittering diamonds trickling down. The floors are black and white checkerboard, but red carpets have been placed around the space, along with columns that have vases with red roses perched on them. Bordering the edges of the room are rows of chairs filled with people, most of whom I barely know. In front of that is where the people in the wedding party are now standing. And in front of them, right the center of the room, are Ryder, Blaise, and Reece.
They’re all wearing the identical black tuxedos with red ties, but black roses have been pinned to the front of them. The red and black theme is a representation of our uniting—the guys wear black to signify the newfound leadership, while I’m wearing hints of red and carrying red flowers as the representation of the blood that will seal the four families together. I overheard my mother telling the ceremony planner that as she explained what colors she wanted. Hearing her talk about this made me want to spill my blood all over the floor.
Blood.
Blood everywhere.
That could have been my end.
I didn’t go through with it, obviously, and now I’m here, walking down the aisle toward the circular area where Blaise, Ryder, and Reece are standing, preparing to hand myself over to them.
My breathing is rushing out of me as we reach the end of the aisle.
My father turns to me and kisses me on the cheek, the feel of it cold and slithering. When he slants back, he looks directly in my eyes and says coldly, “Do not fuck this up.” With that, he places a hand on the small of my back and urges me forward.
I stumble slightly, my heels getting caught on my dress, but I recover and approach the middle of the room where a red rose has been painted on the floor. As per my mother’s earlier instructions, I position myself by it while my father crosses the room to stand beside Ryder’s, Reece’s, and Blaise’s fathers, the four men who are about to rule the country because of their children’s sacrifices.
I look away from it all and focus on the floor, noting that the guys are all standing in front of black roses painted on the floor. I can’t help thinking that if this were my real wedding, one of my choosing, how I’d probably think everything is beautiful. But it’s hard to appreciate such things when it’s interwoven with my agony.
I keep staring at the floor as an ordained member of my father’s family, named Kole, emerges from the crowd and approaches the center of the room, positioning himself between the guys and me.
The music silences.
“Thank you everyone for joining us on this rare occasion,” he announces, his voice echoing against the domed ceiling.
He begins rambling about how important this uniting of the families is, but my shallow breathing and the pounding of my heart inside my eardrums drowns him out.
Breathe, Al, just breathe.
Blaise’s thoughts fill my mind. He used to say that to me all the time, and it usually worked. I attempt to make it work now, knowing I need to listen, even if I have no desire to.
Taking a few measured breaths, I tune back in, and barely in time, too, because Kole is instructing the four of us to step forward.
Clutching my bouquet, I gather my dress in my other hand and take a step forward. This puts me within arm’s reach of Blaise and Reece, while Ryder is straight across from me. They’re all looking at me, Ryder more intensely, while Blaise and Reece are giving me fleetingly concerned glances.
It’s unbearable to look at them, so I don’t. Instead, I stare at those damn roses on the floor as the ritual of the rings happens. Mine has black diamonds woven in the metal, and the guys are given black bands. Next comes the cutting of our palms. This was something I was warned about. I find it almost laughable that the four of us our slicing our palms open like we did when we were kids and made a blood promise to be friends forever. This time, however, no promises of friendship are made, but one of being bound together by blood for the rest of our lives.
Each of the guys are instructed to repeat a pledge to protect the families’ names, secrets, and bloodline until they become one with the dirt. Then they slice their palm open and let their blood drip to the floor.
When Kole hands me the knife, I fleetingly consider stabbing him in the eye with it when he smiles at me. I won’t, but the thought crosses my mind multiple times in mere seconds.
“Allura, do you vow to honor the families’ names, secrets, and bloodlines?” he asks me with his arms crossed.
I press the tip of the knife to my palm, about to mumble a half-assedyes, when he adds, “And to bear a child of each name, starting within a year after the ceremony and then every other year?”
I freeze. I stop breathing. I die a little inside as I lift my gaze to this stupid man with his cruel smile, asking me this fucked-up question. Deep down, I was aware that I’d have to have children if I never managed to escape this life, but talking about it like this in front of everyone … It's like they see me as a goddamn broodmare.
What my mother said about me having to agree to things I won’t necessarily want to agree to suddenly makes sense.
