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The laughter on my lips died down and I took his finger, holding onto it more tightly than he expected. “I...”
“You will let go of his fucking hand right now!”
My tongue dried in my mouth and my heart dropped to my stomach. Rapid gunfire rang out, the beautiful stained glass shattered, and loud screams pierced the air. The minister and the guests hurried to take cover; everyone except Da, his men, and the groom and bride—me—on the podium. We turned toward the door where more Russian men stormed inside with rifles and handguns pointed at us.
I tried to focus on calming Dad down, with his face reddened like a ripened tomato wanting to burst and his fingers folded into fists, but nothing was strong enough to take my eyes away from him. Viktor Voronin-Varkov in the flesh. His eyes held mine with a fierceness that reignited the familiar flames I felt in his presence. He was dressed like a groom in a shiny black suit with his hair trimmed in a fresh taper fade. With one outstretched arm holding a silver gun and the other tucked into his pocket, I had never seen a man more handsome.
“Viktor!” My father roared. “Take this madness outside.”
Mockery shone in his ghost eyes, and he stayed unmoving. “So, Cian fears God.”
Da, with clenched teeth, closed the distance between them and Declan disappeared from my side to stand beside him. It was our tradition not to bring guns or any sort of violence to a wedding celebration, and that left us at a disadvantage. The weapons were outside, and judging by the Russian’s confidence, there was no possibility that our men standing guard outside still breathed.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Ah,” Viktor waved the gun in the air; his eyes twinkling dangerously. “So, he who fears God curses in the church. Well, Cian, to answer your question, I’m here to claim what’s rightfully mine.” He looked past Dad’s head and smiled at me. The scene jogged a memory from a year ago, during my friend, Julianna’s wedding, to Viktor’s former boss, Rafail Varkov, my father had barged in the same way to take me back.
“You don’t have anything of yours here, Viktor. It is clear that you’re seeking nothing but trouble,” cued Declan’s entry, and immediately, I wished he’d remained silent.
The smile faded off Viktor’s face when he faced my husband-to-be. In a blink, he swung his arm, and the butt of silver connected with the crown of Declan’s head.
“Oh my God.” My hands flew to my mouth while Dad and I watched his limp body slump to the ground.
I saw the conflict in my father’s eyes at the sight of Declan helpless and unconscious.
“Weren’t you taught proper manners, Dicklan? You don’t speak until you’re spoken to, idiot.” Viktor stepped over him and more guns aimed at Dad’s head and his men’s. “Back to you, O’Sullivan.”
Dad didn’t flinch. “I stand by what my son-in-law said, Viktor. You have nothing of yours here. Quit this madness at once, and I’ll pretend like you hit your head and lost your way.”
Viktor shook his head. “The only person here with a possible concussion is your precious son-in-law. Now, listen to me: a wedding will still take place. Only, it’ll be me in the place of the blonde.”
If I thought I was stricken before, now I was near paralysis. Forcing my feet to move, I gathered my dress and appeared at my father’s side, eyes pleading. “No, Viktor. You have to stop this. I... I cannot marry you.”
Anger lived in his eyes and his fingers stilled over the trigger. “The last time I checked, I wasn’t asking,” he said without sparing me so much as a glance. “By the code, she belongs to me...”
The code...
What code?
While I struggled to understand what code he talked about, Dad went mute, like the meaning was more than clear.
“...the baby and the mother are coming with me. So, again, allow me to say that a wedding will take place now, between me and my bride, with immediate effect.”
Dad turned to me, disappointment strongly displayed from his countenance. “Mo leanbh...”
I was crying now, holding his hands, and trying to make him see that I had no intention of hurting him. But he was as solid as a rock. “Da, please, listen...”
“Why didn’t you say anything, Ava? I would have never forced you to—”
“Move!” A man pushed my father forward to the podium with a gun pointed at his neck.
Reluctantly, I joined Viktor on the lower steps, and he signaled the minister—who had a pistol aimed at his head—to start. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and it was pointless holding them back. My makeup was already ruined, and the entire church was in shambles. I caught sight of Declan lying unconscious on the ground on a scattered line of shattered glass windows, and I cried even harder. It didn’t have to go this way.
“I do.” The certainty in his deep voice and the feel of cold steel sliding onto my finger brought me back to the present moment.
The minister asked me the same lineup of questions, and, with quivering lips, I sealed my destiny with this man’s. “I do.”
Viktor didn’t wait for the instruction from the older man. He cupped my cheeks, grabbed my face to his, and claimed my lips with his. I melted against his hot mouth with more tears pouring out of my eyes. I truly was pathetic. I couldn’t even muster the strength to push him away.
