CHAPTER 1: THE BLOOD-SOAKED BRIDE
~SIMONE'S POV~
The weight of a hundred years of Alejandro's legacy rested on the ivory silk draped over my shoulders. My wedding dress, a custom Vera Wang creation worth more than most homes, felt more like armor than a celebration.
This marriage was more about a military alliance than a love match.
"You look beautiful, mija."
My father's voice, usually commanding enough to make grown men tremble, softened as he entered the cathedral's private lobby.
Don Vincenzo Alejandro, feared patriarch of Sicily's most powerful crime family, looked at me not as his heir but as his daughter.
Just for a moment.
"Is it time already?" I asked though I knew the answer. The cathedral bells had just finished their third toll.
He nodded, approaching to adjust my veil with surprising gentleness. His fingers, the same ones that had signed death warrants and million-dollar deals, trembled slightly.
Age or emotion, I couldn't tell.
"Your mother would be proud," he said, the rarest compliment from a man who mentioned my dead mother perhaps once a year.
"You're securing our family's future today."
That's what this was...security.
My marriage to Rafael Russo would unite two powerful families, ending generations of bloody territorial quarrels. My heart had little to do with it, though Rafael was handsome enough with his perfectly sculpted jaw and piercing blue eyes.
He had dated me properly, respected my boundaries, and made promises of freedom within our arrangement.
It was the best I could hope for as Don Alejandro's only child.
"I won't disappoint you, Papa," I promised, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Ice blue eyes...my eyes...stared back from his weathered face.
The only biological trait I had inherited from him.
He squeezed my shoulders, a gesture worth a thousand words from such a taciturn man. "You never have."
The door opened, revealing my uncle Baron, my father's younger brother. Unlike Papa's softened behavior, Baron's face remained sharp as a blade, his dark suit impeccably pressed.
"The guests are waiting, Vincenzo," he said, not bothering to hide his impatience. "The Russos are getting restless."
My father's face hardened instantly, the softness vanishing. "They've waited three generations for this alliance. They can wait three more minutes."
Baron's lip curled slightly before he nodded, backing out of the doorway.
"Remember who you are today," my father said, turning back to me. "You're not just a bride. You're an Alejandro."
With that, he offered his arm. I took it, feeling the solid strength that had protected me my entire life. The last walk I would take is with Simone Alejandro.
After today, I would be Simone Russo...still powerful, but different.
The cathedral's massive doors swung open, revealing hundreds of faces turned expectantly toward me. The criminal elite of Europe filled the pews....capos, underbosses, allied families, and halfhearted parties who had come to witness the historic union.
Millions of jewelry sparkle beneath the stained glass light. Almost as many firearms slept beneath designer suits.
At the altar waited Rafael, handsome in his bespoke tuxedo, a victorious smile playing on his lips as he watched me approach on my father's arm.
His family flanked his side...the Russo patriarch, his brothers, and their top men.
Our side mirrored theirs, my uncles Baron and Hector, our capos, the men who'd watched me grow up while simultaneously carrying out my father's most brutal orders.
This union would end bloodshed. My sacrifice...if you could call marrying a handsome, wealthy man a sacrifice...would save lives.
I repeated this to myself as my father and I processed down the aisle, my cathedral-length train trailing behind like a silken river.
Rafael's eyes never left mine, his smile growing as I approached. Was there something else in his expression? Triumph, yes, but something more calculating? I dismissed the thought.
Pre-wedding nerves. Nothing more.
The orchestra reached a crescendo as we arrived at the altar steps. My father paused, turning toward me for the traditional blessing.
He lifted my veil, leaned forward, and kissed my forehead...a gesture so rare I nearly gasped.
"Be strong," he whispered, "no matter what happens."
Before I could question his strange choice of words, he placed my hand in Rafael's waiting palm. My fiancé's fingers closed around mine, warm but somehow wrong.
I pushed the feeling aside. This was my duty. My destiny.
The ancient Italian priest began the ceremony, his Latin phrases echoing through the vaulted ceiling. Rafael's thumb stroked across my knuckles in what should have been a comforting move but felt possessive instead.
"Dearly beloved..." the priest began in accented English.
I quickly looked over the crowd and saw where our security teams were positioned.
My eye caught a tall figure standing at the very back of the cathedral...a man I didn't recognize. Broad-shouldered, with dark hair and unusual golden eyes that somehow caught the light even from that distance.
Something about him seemed familiar, yet I was sure we had never met. I would have remembered those eyes.
He stared directly at me, expressionless, as if marking out my worth.
"If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony..."
A movement near the side doors caught my attention. Men in dark suits enter silently. Not ours. Not the Russos. My body tensed, years of training kicking in.
"Rafael," I whispered, squeezing his hand in warning.
He frowned, following my gaze. His hand tightened painfully around mine.
The priest continued obliviously, "Let them speak now or forever hold their..."
The first gunshot shattered the stained-glass window of Saint Michael, sending colored glass raining down on the screaming guests. Before I could process what was happening, my father shoved me roughly behind him.
"Down!" he roared, reaching for the weapon he always carried.
Too late.
The second shot hit him square in the chest, blooming red against his white shirt.
My father...the invincible Don Alejandro, looked surprised more than pained as he stumbled back against me. I caught him instinctively, the weight of him driving us both to our knees.
"Papa!" The scream tore from my throat as chaos erupted.
More gunshots. Screams. The wedding guests are diving for cover or drawing weapons. Through it all, my father's blood soaked into my white dress, turning ivory silk to crimson.
"Simone," he gasped, clutching my hand with fading strength. "Trust no one. The ledger in my..."
His words cut off as another pang of pain twisted his features. I looked up desperately, searching for help, for Rafael.
My fiancé was gone. In the moment when my world collapsed, he had run.
"Someone help!" I screamed, pressing my hand against the wound as my father had taught me years ago. Too much blood. Far too much.
"Papa, stay with me!"
His eyes...my eyes...focused on me one last time. "Forgive me for not seeing..." he whispered.
Then nothing. The great Don Alejandro went lifeless in my arms, his final secrets dying with him.
I don't know how long I knelt there, cradling him, my wedding dress transformed into a burial shroud. The gunfire had stopped. The cathedral had emptied of all but the dead and dying.
And then footsteps. Counted. Slow. Purposeful.
I looked up through tears and blood to see the golden-eyed stranger from the back of the church standing over me.
Up close, he was even more imposing...at least six-foot-three, with shoulders that strained against his tailored jacket and features carved from stone.
Not handsome in the conventional way Rafael was, but magnetic. Dangerous.
Behind him stood at least a dozen armed men, all watching me with cold detachment.
"Who are you?" I managed, my voice raw. "Did you do this?"
The stranger knelt, balancing on the balls of his feet to bring us eye-to-eye. His gaze swept over my father's body without emotion before returning to my face.
He reached out, his large hand cupping my tear-stained cheek with surprising gentleness.
"Hello, love," he said, his voice deep and accented with something Northern European. "I finally found you."
Before I could react, he nodded to his men. Two stepped forward, pulling my father's body from my arms despite my protests.
The stranger...whoever he was...lifted me effortlessly, uncaring of the blood soaking us both.
"Take the bride," he ordered, carrying me toward the doors as I struggled weakly against him. "And find whoever's responsible for this mess. Don Alejandro deserved better than a coward's bullet."
The last thing I saw as he carried me from the cathedral was my father's body, the once-powerful Don now just another casualty in Sicily's endless wars.
I didn't know then that I was looking at my past and being carried into my future...both soaked in Alejandro's blood.