CHAPTER 3: THE DEVIL IN A SUIT
~NICHOLAS~
I was too late.
The cathedral doors swung open beneath my hands, revealing the aftermath of a massacre I'd spent months trying to prevent.
The scent hit me first...gunpowder, blood, and the lingering notes of expensive perfume from fleeing wedding guests.
Sunlight filtered through shattered stained glass, painting the marble floor in kaleidoscope patterns of red and gold.
And there she was. The bride. Kneeling in a pool of blood that spread like a dark halo around her white dress.
Simone Alejandro. The woman I'd been hunting for five years.
"Secure the perimeter," I ordered my men without looking back. "Find me whoever's still alive. I want answers."
Carlos, my right hand, stepped up beside me. "Stravkos men at all exits. No one's getting in or out without our permission."
"And the shooter?"
"Gone. Same with the Russo boy." Carlos's voice hardened with hatred. "Ran like a coward while his future father-in-law took a bullet."
My jaw clenched as I watched Simone cradling the body of Don Alejandro. She hadn't noticed us yet, lost in grief so raw it seemed sinful to witness.
Her veil had fallen, revealing waves of jet-black hair now matted with blood.
Fifteen minutes. That's all that separated success from this carnage. Fifteen fucking minutes.
(Two Hours Earlier)
"The Alejandro wedding starts at noon," I told the assembled men in my study. "Our intelligence suggests the assassination attempt will happen during the ceremony."
I traced the cathedral blueprints spread across my desk, memorizing every entrance, exit, and hiding place.
The security would be impenetrable...or so Don Alejandro believed. What he didn't know was that the threat came from within his own family.
"Baron and Hector Alejandro have been planning this for months," I continued. "They've paid off half the security team and positioned their men throughout the cathedral."
Carlos frowned. "And we care because...?"
"Because I owe Don Alejandro a debt," I answered simply, offering no further explanation. My men didn't need to know about the scared twelve-year-old boy Don Alejandro had saved decades ago.
They didn't need to know that when my parents were executed by rivals, it was Vincenzo Alejandro who had given me a choice instead of a bullet.
What mattered was the debt. And today I would repay it by stopping his treacherous brothers from killing him.
"Our objectives are clear," I said, straightening. "Get to the cathedral before the ceremony concludes. Stop the assassination. Extract Don Alejandro to safety." I paused, my finger resting on the diagram of the altar. "And secure his daughter."
"The bride?" Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Why not leave her with her new husband?"
I met his gaze without emotion. "Rafael Russo is compromised. He knows about the plot."
"And the girl?"
"Is innocent," I said, perhaps too quickly. "And valuable. With her, we control the future of the Alejandro empire."
What I didn't say...what I couldn't admit even to Carlos, was that Simone Alejandro had haunted me for five years, since a chance encounter at a nonaligned territory gathering.
One night of conversation, of seeing something unexpected in those ice-blue eyes. Intelligence, stubbornness, and a carefully hidden vulnerability that matched my own.
I'd discovered her identity too late. By then, she had already promised Rafael Russo, and approaching her would have meant war between our families.
So I'd watched from afar, gathering information, learning her routines, her habits, her secrets.
Some might call it an obsession. I called it strategy.
"We leave in twenty minutes," I ordered, rolling up the blueprints. "And I want her unharmed. Understood?"
(Present:)
But we hadn't arrived in time. My convoy had been delayed by an "accident" that was designed to slow us down. By the time we fought our way through, the first shots had already been fired.
Now, Don Alejandro was dead. The assassination I'd come to prevent had succeeded. And his daughter, the woman I'd tracked for years, knelt before me, broken and bloodied.
I approached slowly, signaling my men to hang back.
This moment required delicacy, not force. Grief made people unpredictable, and Simone Alejandro had been trained by one of the most dangerous men in Sicily.
She didn't look up until my shadow fell across her face. When she did, those ice-blue eyes...identical to her father's...widened with shock, then narrowed with hatred.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice raw from screaming. "Did you do this?"
I knelt to her level, partly out of respect, partly to assess Don Alejandro's body. The bullet had struck him directly in the heart...a professional hit.
Quick, efficient, and designed to ensure he had no chance of survival.
"Hello, love," I said, reaching out to touch her tear-stained cheek. "I finally found you."
The gentleness in my voice surprised even me. This wasn't part of the plan...this momentary softness.
But seeing her like this, covered in her father's blood on what should have been the happiest day of her life, triggered something unexpected.
A crack in the armor I'd spent decades building.
Her expression shifted from shock to fury. She slapped my hand away with surprising strength.
"Don't touch me! Who the hell are you?"
"Nicholas Stravkos," I answered, watching recognition flash across her features.
The Stravkos name carried weight in our world...feared, respected, whispered about in dark corners. "And I'm not your enemy, Simone. Not today."
"Liar," she hissed, clutching her father's body tighter. "You killed him!"
"If I wanted him dead, I wouldn't have tried to save him." The truth slipped out before I could stop it. A mistake. She wasn't ready for the truth—not yet.
Around us, my men were searching the cathedral, securing doors, and checking bodies. Carlos approached, leading a trembling old priest by the arm.
"Found him hiding in the confessional," Carlos reported. "Says he saw everything."
The priest...white-haired and skeletal, stared at me with undisguised terror. "Please," he whispered, "I'm just a man of God. I want no part in your wars."
I regarded him coldly. "What did you see?"
"The...the uncles," he stammered, eyes darting to Simone and away. "They nodded to someone just before the shooting started. I've served this parish for forty years... I know the Alejandro brothers. It was them."
Simone went still in a way that concerned me more than her earlier rage. "My uncles?" she whispered. "No. You're lying. They wouldn't..."
"Get him out of here," I ordered Carlos. "Somewhere safe until we need his testimony."
As Carlos escorted the priest away, I turned back to Simone. The shock was setting in; her complexion had gone ashen, her breathing shallow.
She needed medical attention and security—neither of which I could provide in a blood-soaked cathedral with police en route.
"Your father is dead," I said, keeping my voice level. "Nothing can change that now. But you're still alive, and some people want to ensure that doesn't remain the case."
"I don't care," she said, but her grip on her father had loosened slightly.
"He would." I nodded toward Don Alejandro's body. "He spent his life protecting you. Don't waste his sacrifice out of stubbornness."
Her eyes flashed. "You didn't know my father."
I almost laughed at the irony. "Better than you might think."
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. My window of opportunity was narrowing. I gestured to two of my men. "Take him," I ordered, indicating Don Alejandro's body. "Treat him with respect. Prepare him properly."
Simone began fighting as my men approached, clawing and screaming. "No! Don't you dare touch him!"
I caught her wrists, restraining her with as much gentleness as the situation allowed. "Enough. Your father will receive the honors he deserves, but right now, you're coming with me."
"I'd rather die," she spat, eyes blazing despite the tears streaming down her face.
"That can be arranged if you stay here," I replied coldly. "Your uncles won't leave loose ends, and right now, you're the loosest end of all."
As my men lifted Don Alejandro's body, I shrugged out of my suit jacket and wrapped it around Simone's shoulders.
The expensive material immediately began soaking up blood—hers or her father's, I couldn't tell.
She fought me still, but with less conviction, shock, and exhaustion taking their toll. When I lifted her into my arms, her head fell against my chest, her body finally surrendering even as her mind rebelled.
"My father..." she murmured, her voice fading.
"Will be avenged," I promised, carrying her down the aisle where minutes earlier she'd walked as a bride. "But not by you. Not yet."
Outside, chaos reigned. Wedding guests fled in luxury vehicles, police cordoned off streets, and curious onlookers gathered at the perimeter.
I carried Simone directly to my waiting SUV, her blood-soaked wedding dress leaving a macabre trail behind us.
Carlos held the door open, his expression carefully neutral as I placed her in the backseat. "The priest?"
"In the second vehicle," I confirmed. "Keep him alive. His testimony may be useful."
"And her?" Carlos nodded toward Simone, who had finally lost consciousness, her head lolling against the leather seat.
I studied her face—beautiful even in grief, strong even in defeat. Five years of watching from a distance hadn't prepared me for the reality of having Simone Alejandro in my possession.
The game had changed. My plans would need to adapt.
"Take us home," I ordered, sliding in beside her unconscious form. "And tell the doctor to be ready."
As we pulled away from the cathedral, I brushed a strand of blood-matted hair from her face. She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent.
Even in unconsciousness, she fought.
"Sleep, princess," I said quietly. "The nightmare's just beginning."
For both of us.