Chapter Six AURORA
Iwoke up already grieving. That was the first thing I felt.
Not excitement. Not nerves. Not butterflies.
Grief. Heavy and cold and strange, sitting directly on my chest like somebody had climbed onto my ribs during the night and refused to move.
Like sometime while I slept, somebody had quietly replaced my lungs with wet concrete.
For a few seconds, I just stared at the ceiling above me. White. Gold trim. Soft morning sunlight spilling through sheer curtains in pale ribbons, painting warm stripes across the room.
Beautiful. Everything looked beautiful. I hated it.
Outside my bedroom windows, I could hear birds. I could hear distant voices drifting through the apartment. Doors opening and closing. Footsteps moving quickly down hallways. Staff laughing loudly somewhere downstairs.
Life. Continuing. Like today wasn't a funeral. Like today wasn't the day somebody forced me into white lace and handed me over. Like today wasn't the day my freedom officially died.
My eyes burned. No. Absolutely not. I wasn't crying anymore. I refused. I rolled over violently and dragged a pillow over my face. Maybe if I stayed here long enough, they'd assume I'd died peacefully in my sleep and cancel the wedding.
Honestly? Seemed reasonable. Maybe they'd gather around my bed looking devastated. Then they'd close the casket and I'd finally get out of marrying Sergio. Problem solved.
The bedroom door opened. "She's alive."
Sienna's voice. Damn it. The pillow disappeared. I glared upward.
My youngest sister stood in the doorway wearing pale pink silk pajamas and fluffy slippers with tiny pearl bows. Her dark hair sat piled on top of her head in some ridiculously complicated arrangement that definitely took effort.
Behind her, Chiara carried coffee. Traitors. Sienna took one look at my face. "She’s not in a good mood, Chiara."
I looked away. Chiara's expression softened. "Aurora, it’s time to get ready."
"No." My voice came out rough.
Just one word. Because if Chiara used that voice, the one she only used when somebody was hurt, the one that sounded too much like our Mama… I was going to completely lose it.
She sat carefully beside me. "You need to eat something."
"No,” I said again.
"Drink something?" Sienna piped up.
"No. And fuck you both," I hissed. Silence. Then Sienna climbed onto the bed beside me and crossed her legs dramatically.
"Okay," she announced. "She's entered her corpse era. Like those Victorian women who died of broken hearts and looked hot while doing it."
Chiara closed her eyes. "Sienna, stop."
"What?" she asked innocently. "I'm helping."
I stared at my little sister. Then, against my will, I let out a tiny sob. Tiny. Barely there. A pathetic little sound. But Chiara looked crushed. I hated that she looked like that and still wasn’t going to change a thing about my wedding.
Guilt twisted through me afterward. Because Chiara wasn't trying to hurt me.
That somehow made everything worse. If she'd been cruel, maybe I could've hated her.
If she'd done this to hurt me, maybe anger would've been easier.
But she loved me. And she genuinely thought she was saving me. That was the horrible part.
I sat up slowly. The room felt too small. Too warm. Too bright. Like the walls had shifted closer while I slept. My eyes drifted toward the windows. Toward the dress. And everything inside me stopped.
White fabric spilled down from the mannequin in soft waves like liquid moonlight. Tiny embroidered flowers curled across delicate lace while crystals caught the sunlight and glittered faintly.
Beautiful. Elegant. Perfect. Terrifying.
And I couldn't breathe. Because all I could think was… Forever. Wake up beside him forever. Smile forever. Pretend forever. Be somebody's wife forever. Belong forever. My stomach twisted violently. I stood so fast the room tilted around me.
"Aurora?" Chiara stood. “Please, talk to us.”
I walked toward the windows. Then pressed both hands against the cool glass. The city stretched beneath me in glittering silver and gold. Cars moved through streets far below. Tiny people crossed sidewalks. I swallowed hard.
"I don't want this,” I said for the umpteenth time.
No jokes, no comments. Nothing.
"I don't fucking want this," I whispered again. My voice cracked. Oh no. My eyes filled with water. “Fuck you for making me do it.”
Chiara moved toward me slowly. "Aurora, please."
I shook my head hard. "I can't do this."
The words broke apart coming out. Because all I could think about was dark eyes behind a devil mask. A stupid smile. Warm fingers wrapped around mine. Bein called little troublemaker.
God. What the hell was wrong with me? I barely knew him.
Didn't know his name. Didn't know who he was.
Didn't know anything. And somehow, my chest physically hurt.
Because somewhere deep down, somewhere ugly and terrifying and impossible…
I already knew. I knew I'd never forget him.
Not for one second. And today, I was marrying someone else.
A tear slid down my cheek. Then another. Then I couldn't stop. Chiara wrapped her arms around me. I cried like something inside me was splitting open. Like my heart had finally realized what my brain had been refusing to admit.
My life was over.
The cathedral looked like something pulled out of the afterlife. Which felt ironic considering half the men sitting inside it had probably sent people there.
White roses climbed polished marble columns in twisting arrangements taller than I was.
Thousands of candles burned beneath crystal chandeliers overhead, dripping warm gold light across rows of pews filled with dark suits and diamonds and money.
Sunlight poured through stained-glass windows and spilled ruby and sapphire colors over the floor beneath my heels.
Beautiful. Everything in our world was always beautiful. Even the ugly things. Especially the ugly things. Because monsters liked expensive wrapping paper.
The Five Families filled nearly every seat. Men sat with watches worth houses hidden beneath tailored sleeves. Women wore glittering diamonds around their throats and wrists while bodyguards lined the walls pretending they weren't carrying weapons beneath their jackets.
Luxury. Violence. Power. All dressed up for a wedding.
I barely noticed any of it. Because Sergio stood waiting at the altar. Waiting for me. His dark suit fit his broad shoulders perfectly. Dark tattoos disappeared beneath crisp white cuffs while candlelight reflected against his watch. His face looked calmer than I'd ever seen it.
And when his eyes found mine, he smiled. Guilt punched directly through my ribs. Because he looked happy. Actually happy. Like this was the beginning of something beautiful. Like he wasn't standing beside a girl mentally planning ways to fake her own death.
Music swelled around me. The veil brushed softly against my shoulders while my heels clicked over marble.
One step. Then another. I couldn't feel my body anymore.
Everything felt distant. Muted. Like I was underwater.
Faces blurred together. Voices blurred together. The entire cathedral blurred together.
Until Sergio reached for my hands. Warm fingers closed around mine. Steady. Safe.
"Aurora." His voice was low enough only I could hear. Concerned. Gentle. "You okay?"
Fuck no I wasn’t. I smiled anyway. "Perfect."
The priest began speaking. Something about love. Something about family. Something about devotion. Words drifted around me without meaning anything. Because all I could think about was forever.
My stomach twisted. This was it. There wasn't another escape. No dramatic interruption. No miracle. No running away. No freedom. Just this cursed life.
"If anyone objects to this union..." Absolute silence. "...speak now or forever hold your peace."
One second passed. Two. Three. And then, someone spoke up.
"I object."
Everything stopped.
Because I knew that voice.
I turned. And saw him. No mask. No devil horns. No shadows. Just him. Dark hair pushed back neatly. Sharp cheekbones. Strong jaw. Tattooed skin disappearing beneath a black suit tailored perfectly across broad shoulders. Beautiful dark eyes locked directly onto mine.
Eyes I'd stared into while sitting in his club. Eyes I'd looked into while his hand held mine. Eyes I'd thought about every single night afterward even though I hated myself for it.
My blood turned to ice. The Devil. The man I'd kissed. My mouth parted.
Around us people began murmuring. Confused whispers spread through the cathedral. Sergio stepped slightly in front of me. Protective.
"What the fuck is this?" he snapped.
But I wasn't listening. Couldn't force myself to. Because I was staring at him. And the devil was staring back. Not at Sergio. Not at the priest. Not at anyone else. Only me.
Like the entire cathedral had disappeared. Like none of these people existed. Like he'd walked into this room and only found one thing worth seeing.
He smiled. And I understood something terrifying. The smile behind the mask had never been the dangerous part. This was. Because without the mask there was nothing playful about him. Nothing teasing. Nothing soft. Just possession, obsession, and certainty.
My knees nearly gave out. Sergio moved. Fast. His hand reached toward me while the other moved beneath his jacket.
Bang.
The sound exploded through the cathedral. Women screamed. Glass shattered somewhere. Birds burst from outside the stained-glass windows.
For a second, one horrible second, I didn't understand. Didn't understand why warm drops hit my face. Didn't understand why Sergio's expression changed. Didn't understand why his eyes widened. Then blood spilled slowly from his head. Red. Bright red.
Against white marble. Against white roses. Against my white dress. My soul left my body.
No.
Sergio looked at me. Confused. Like he didn't understand either. Then his knees hit the floor. His body collapsed beside me.