Chapter 53 - Lev
LEV
My sister shuts the door, cutting me off from Serafina. My heart knows it. My lungs know it. Every aspect of my being knows it.
I hate it.
Thirty seconds have passed since last seeing her—if that—and already, I’m dying inside.
Anastasia hooks her arm into mine and leads me away from the door, even though there’s nowhere I’d rather be. Zeno is striding up the aisle, his face thunderous as he escapes the insane number of people Vitale insisted on inviting, so I’m grateful for her timing.
“How are you?” she murmurs, scanning the packed church.
The buzz of conversation, minor by other people’s standards but horrendous by mine, inflames this thing. If there’s something worse than the hell about to go down, that is. My skin itches, and this suit is too tight. Everything is wrong.
Since waking this morning, my head has been in a permanent state of fuzziness, and it’s gotten worse since arriving at the church, being forced away from Serafina while she was prepped by Anastasia, Vanessa, and the staff Vitale hired.
“There are very few people I’d do this for.”
Zeno approaches. “She ready?”
“As much as she can be.”
He glances towards the shut door and huffs, his tanned skin flushing paler than normal. “I always hoped I’d be walking her down the aisle one day, but not like this.”
He continues for the door, and Anastasia leads me down the aisle.
Every step is a painful reminder of what I’m about to witness, and I count them, gaining an idea of how many Serafina will be taking, giving me a countdown to work with.
With an idea of how long her trip will take, there’s a defined ending.
People glance up as we pass, some outwardly muttering. It’s well known the Bratva’s Pakhan and her Elite are in attendance, something a few of the Capos take issue with, according to Zeno. They believe this should be closed to Cosa Nostra only.
We make it to the second pew on the left—the bride’s side—where Dimitri and Katya are already seated, having decided to come despite their own recent hell when Dimitri was held prisoner in Toronto by Ivan’s followers. Katya smiles shyly while Dimitri nods, telling me he gets it.
He doesn’t, but I suppose it’s nice to have someone try.
Vanessa and Nero are in the first row. Nero shoots me a grim look in greeting before linking his hands in front of him. His shoulders are tense, his glare returning to the front of the church. Vanessa is doing the same.
It’s the front I direct my anger towards, towards the man who stands there, scanning the audience, his grin victorious. His scan comes to a stop on Vanessa, where his eyes narrow slightly, and then on me. His mouth pulls up on one side and throws a final wink before facing the approaching minister.
Then, the world stops turning when the traditional wedding march plays through the church. Guests stand, angling themselves to the duo appearing in the back.
A bride, who, by traditional standards, should be blushing and happy but is instead shut off.
Not pissed, unhappy, or cheery—just blank.
Her grip is tight around the white rose bouquet, her bright eyes glazed as she glowers.
A quick check of her trajectory reveals she’s staring at the statue of God behind Alessio’s head.
Acting as a father might, Zeno’s arm is linked into hers, keeping her close. His eyes sweep the room, his jaw tense.
The march goes quickly. Soon, they’re midway down the aisle, and my mental step count is fast approaching its end. Then, they’re two-thirds. It’s only been a minute, sixty seconds—too fast. Ten more seconds, and she’ll be with him.
As she approaches, her eyes flick to me. Her expression gives nothing away, but the slight rise in her shoulders tells me she’s inhaled. Motion draws my attention to the bouquet, where her index finger taps once, twice, and then once again, my habitual response to anxiety.
She can have it. She’s stolen the rest of me—heart included—so why not my tapping pattern?
My finger taps the same on my knee.
She looks away as she passes, dragging her gaze to Vanessa and Nero and then to the front again as Zeno comes to a stop. With obvious tenseness, he sets her hand in Vitale’s and backs away. No one could miss Zeno’s glare before he strides off the podium to Vanessa’s side.
The priest begins the ceremony, talking much too long for my liking.
Even Vitale starts to scowl at the elderly man, motioning him to hurry up.
Serafina’s stare hasn’t moved from stained-glass window behind him.
Her spine is straight, rigid, her shoulders stiff.
These two couldn’t be further away from playing the happy couple if they tried.
My tapping speeds up. One, two, one.
The priest announces it’s time for vows, and a hush descends over the crowd—from the audience, an air of excitement at witnessing a Capo officially wed his fiancée, and from our small group, the knowledge that it’s the beginning of the end.
Vitale recites his vows in a mechanical voice, and then it’s Serafina’s turn. At the mention of her name, she seems to wake up, twisting her head towards the minister. She murmurs something no one but the duo hears before nodding.
And then, her voice comes, no louder than a whisper. It’s the voice of a bride choked with emotion over her ‘big day’, but I know the truth, the hesitation tainting the clarity of her words.
“…until death do us part.”
Sooner rather than later.
Vitale reaches into his pocket, pulling out wedding bands. He gives one to Serafina who, after a moment’s hesitation and the priest’s verbal prodding, slides it onto his finger.
One, two, one. My muscles lock, even if none of this will be real for long. Anastasia leans into my arm.
Vitale reaches for her left hand when she doesn’t offer it, yanking it up roughly. My own curl, wanting to end up in his face until he’s bloody and unable to breathe and—
Anastasia nudges me. “Behave. You look like you’re about to start something.”
One, two, one. “Don’t tempt me.”
“You’ll lose. The entire Cosa Nostra is present. Let this happen.”
He poises the ring at the end of her finger.
One, two, one.
Three seconds before it’s slid on.
One…
Two… It’s at knuckle.
Three… It’s seated in its new place—a temporary one.
My heart stops beating.
What kind of fucking masochist watches his girl get married to another man?
Me. Because I’m a damn idiot who’ll do anything for her, a fact that’s unnerving and so curious. She buried herself beneath my skin. She went from being a job to becoming my everything.
My everything.
She makes it easy to forget the past, forget what Papa did. She makes me want a future outside of the Bratva and my job as my Pakhan’s Spy. She sees past my skills and doesn’t mind my bouts of silence. She eases my mind in every moment except this one.
The minister declares them husband and wife and invites them to share their first kiss as a couple.
Their first kiss… How the hell did I forget about this?
Vitale leans close to Serafina, cupping her face, and red flashes across my vision. Every motherfucking shade surges from my eyes to my feet until I react.
Vitale presses his lips to Serafina’s. I’m halfway out of my seat and—
A hand hauls me back down, a heel jammed into my shoe. “Sit. Down,” my sister hisses below her breath. “Lev, people are watching. Don’t move another muscle.”
On my other side, Dimitri’s hand hovers over my arm, prepared to help Anastasia should I disobey.
Going against every instinct to protect my girl and using someone else’s touch as a support, I grip Ana’s hand and settle back down. People on the opposite side of the aisle cast confused side glances before giving the newlyweds their attention.
Their kiss is three seconds, and it’s three seconds too long before Vitale lifts his head, granting her a smile that may seem loving at first but is actually menacing. His gaze then slides over her head and onto me.
The entire room bursts into applause. Their excitement explodes my head, but for once, it’s not the volume, but rather why they’re doing it.
Even Zeno claps, knowing half the room’s probably looking to him as her Capo and family.
Nero follows suit, though with less enthusiasm.
Vanessa has her hands lifted to complete the motions but manages no more than one.
Dimitri and Katya clap slowly with dismayed glances my way.
Anastasia and I are the only ones not celebrating.
Vitale yanks Serafina against him, earning her scowl. He buries his face into her hair, which makes my teeth clench. It’s an embrace others might view as sweet, but his moving jaw tells me he’s speaking.
Whatever he says has her nodding, her demeanour slipping even lower—if that was possible.
She allows him to direct her to the aisle, and her eyes flit to us.
To her brother first, with a subtle nod, then to me, brows lowered over eyes filled to the brim with pain and anxiety.
Those eyes should only ever be alight with happiness, and I vow, once Vitale is snuffed out, that’s what she’ll only ever feel.
Again, she taps the stems of her bouquet. One, two, one.
He waves to everyone but stops beside Zeno to offer a handshake, which he returns, the gesture entirely for their audience. At his side, Serafina glances at me before looking away just as quickly.
I itch to pull her into my arms and steal her away, but Anastasia, perhaps through that supposed twin bond she believes in, rubs my hand between hers.
He tugs her along, stopping to shake a few other men’s hands. “The other Capos,” Zeno explains.
We join the fray, following the couple out of the church, and at no point does my focus leave Serafina. The crowd is a blob of suffocation and spilling onto the front steps takes fucking forever, but finally we’re out of the stuffy church.
The wedding photographer Vitale insisted on begins hauling the new couple away for pictures I’ll later be burning—right after I hack the photographer’s website and leave behind a nasty virus for her to deal with.
Zeno is stolen away too for family pictures, and the rest of us linger nearby.
Serafina’s pain is being dragged out as she’s posed and forced to smile, but thankfully, Vitale cuts the photographer off after a few to pull her into a limo parked by the curb.
She glances over her shoulder, finding me in the crowd before Vitale all but pushes her inside, and the crowd breaks up to follow them to the reception.
Zeno ushers us to his vehicle parked down the road, and I pull out my phone to bring up the tracking software. With so many people in attendance, Vitale won’t skip his own reception, but when it comes to her safety, no chance will be taken.
Dimitri and Katya climb in the furthest row, the only benefit of a seven-seat SUV. My sister takes the middle row with me, brushing aside her skirt for Nero to sit on her other side.
There are two trackers listed in the software, and I tap the second, which was a last-minute plan yesterday.
Since Serafina couldn’t have her phone at all times today, the tracker installed on it would be useless.
So, after she went to bed, I had Anastasia sew a physical one into her dress.
As long as it’s on her body, I’ll be able to find her.
My finger taps my knee.