Danna:
One week later/The wedding day.
Alessia's words—sharp, venomous, lingering like the sting of a cobra—kept echoing in my head, "Did you forget about us, Dante?", over and over as I sat still on the edge of the bed, my hands resting on the soft folds of my voluminous white wedding dress, the heavy silk cascading around me like a sea of purity while the delicate veil lay gently over my head, veiling my nervous smile and the faint shimmer of happiness in my eyes because, despite the chaos in my mind, I was about to marry someone I truly loved… even if he wasn't mine entirely, even if some part of him belonged to a past I could never touch; the door creaked open and Lana stepped in with two other women at her side, her hand extended gracefully as she said, "Time to go, Miss," and though I had no idea how a mafia or Italian wedding truly unfolded, I trusted my instincts, slipping my trembling fingers into hers as they escorted me forward, the sound of my heart almost louder than my steps until we entered the grand hall where my gaze immediately found Dante—standing tall beside Jake on the dais—surrounded by so many men in tailored suits and women who must have been their wives, each adorned in elegance, their eyes sharp with curiosity; Dante's face was unreadable, his expression carved in stone, and I lowered my gaze quickly, pretending not to hear the whispers drifting through the air—"Dio, she is beautiful", "Capo is so lucky"—as I ascended the steps with Jake's steady hand guiding me until I stood beside Dante, close enough to feel the faint heat radiating from him, and the officiant's voice cut through the air, "Let the ceremony start," just as a soft Italian song began to play, rich and classic, woven with a nostalgia I couldn't name, its language foreign to my lips yet familiar to my heart; Dante motioned toward a nearby couch and I obeyed without question, settling into the seat beside him until a man approached with papers, sliding them across the table between us, and Dante murmured for me to sign—my fingers tightening around the pen before I scrawled my name across the elegant pages—after which he leaned closer, his voice low and certain, "Now, you are officially Mrs. Moretto," and the man collecting the papers smiled before Dante suddenly swept me into his arms, lifting me effortlessly, asking if I knew how to dance, to which I shook my head with a shy honesty, earning the subtle curve of his lips as he guided my hands to his shoulders, his own arms wrapping firmly around my waist as he began to move with slow precision, his voice brushing against my ear—"Follow my rhythm"—and so I did, letting my steps mirror his as, below us, the crowd swayed together in perfect harmony.
Dante:
She was all over me, her delicate frame pressed against mine as I held her even closer, the music swaying us in its warm embrace and for a fleeting moment I wondered why I hadn't done this earlier, why I had wasted so much time keeping her at a distance when she fit so perfectly in my arms, and from the corner of my eye I could see Jake lounging at a table, surrounded by a group of women who were laughing far too loudly, their eyes drawn to him as he threw his head back and laughed along, completely at ease, reminding me for the hundredth time that he had been my best friend through years of chaos and blood, someone I could never forget no matter how high I climbed, but just as that thought lingered, I heard Nico's voice cutting through the music, "Capo," and I bent my head towards Danna, whispering for her to wait here, promising it would only be a moment, before following Nico away from the crowd into a quieter, darker corner of the villa where his eyes burned with caution as he told me he suspected some of my men, his voice low and urgent, and when I asked who, the answer came like the snap of a blade—"The Villo family"—and my jaw tightened, my eyes narrowing as I gave a slow, deliberate nod and ordered him to keep a close eye, his crisp "Yes, capo" ringing in my ears before he left, but even as he walked away, a strange heaviness coiled in my chest, an unease that scraped against my instincts, telling me something was off, so I turned back towards the ballroom, the sounds of music and laughter growing louder as I stepped inside, my gaze immediately finding Jake still in his chair, still calm, but the space beside him—where my Mia Cara had been—was empty, and my heart froze in my chest.
"Danna!" I shouted, my voice sharp enough to slice through the music, the chatter dying instantly as I demanded, "Where is my wife!?" The room stilled, all eyes on me, Jake rising to his feet and scanning the crowd before his voice joined mine, asking if anyone had seen the bride, but heads shook in unison, no one meeting my eyes, and I felt my temper boiling over, my voice like a whip as I snarled, "What the fk—I was gone for just two fking minutes!" My anger surged until it roared in my veins, and I barked for my men to find her, my order snapping them into motion as they scattered in every direction, their footsteps pounding against the marble floor. Then—"Capo!"—one of them called, and I was moving before I even thought, rushing towards the voice until I saw it: her heels lying on the floor, delicate and white, but stained, streaked with blood that made my vision blur red. "No…" I heard Jake mutter behind me, but my rage drowned out everything else, my voice cutting through the air like steel as I growled, "Who is the f**ker who dared to take my wife right behind my nose?" My men shifted uneasily, glances darting between each other, and then someone asked where Mr. Villo was, and the silence that followed was all the confirmation I needed—he was gone, vanished along with her—and my gaze darkened, Nico's warning echoing in my skull until it was no longer a warning but a promise of blood.