I heard my hip thud on the platform as Lucas tackled me to the ground.
He cursed under his breath, covering me with his body before I heard the hiss of a bullet passing by us and hitting the priest by the shoulder. He grunted and fell to the ground, screaming as blood stained his white cassock.
Three of Lucas' men who were standing by the platform whose guns were ready, fell to the ground like puppets as bullets passed through their heads. Even a few of my security fell from the balcony, probably with bullets between their brows as well.
From my peripheral, I saw Gerlando rush Aurelia from the turmoil that was about to happen. Lucas' mother did not complain, instead she eyed her children worriedly and followed her husband. Surely, she was confident that her children were born for this--to withstand that tsunami of catastrophes.
The crowd did not scream, though. Well, they couldn't possibly since they were Lucas' family and they're probably used to this bullshit by now. Although some of the women covered their kids, and the men of the families took out their own guns and covered their wives. Technically, every man was ready to fight. From the looks of it, they were expecting one.
My fear was for the fucking press. They were not used it, and they will for fucking sure broadcast how disastrous this wedding ceremony was. Probably the worst of the decade. Thankfully, the trained help was ushering them all out before the chaos could escalate. Well, there goes my chances of being interviewed by Vogue. Whoever crashed the ceremony better be fucking prepared to die.
Another set of bullets flew in our direction, this time, security was able to pull Harriet down. She shrieked from the sudden tug. I can see her being bothered by the tumult, given her history with it. Chase was off the platform, down on the ground and on his earpiece. So was Lucas, I realized.
"Jack," he hissed, still on the ground with me, his breath warm against my skin. "What the fuck is going on?"
And I heard Chase yell, "There's been a breach in the system."
"What?" I yelled, disoriented. Everything still failed to register in my head. What mattered was that the important people here are unharmed. "How can there be a breach? You took care—"
"Fuck!" I heard Lucas cursed. He turned to me, his jaw set. "Turns out your family is here, Mari."
"What?!" I yelled once more, confused. Children started crying by then, their mothers whispering in their ear with whatever crap they could think of to soothe them.
My family is here? Could it be my father? It was impossible, because Lucas said he would take care of it. I stared at him, waiting for him to meet my gaze, to answer the unsaid question hanging in the air. He shook his head in understanding. Then who would—
"Well!" yelled a familiar voice in the middle of the disarray. It was a rugged one with a thick Italian accent that lingered. "Isn't this a beautiful ceremony?" His remark was followed by a chuckle I know all too well. The once murmuring crowd goes completely quiet.
I got to my feet, fought off Lucas' grip on my shoulder that was pushing me to stay down. But no, I wasn't afraid of the man owning the voice. I was just steaming with rage with how he decided to show up on my wedding day. Of all days! Can't a girl get one peaceful day? I've been preparing for this all my life like my training, and for some jackass to crash it made me see red.
"You fucking piece of shit!" I screamed, storming at his direction, grabbing the gun from my thigh holster. Us Santellis always know how to make an entrance. But mine was supposed to be the only one worth the attention.
"That's pretty cliché of you to hide that there, niece," Matteo Santelli chuckled. He had wrinkles on every surface of his face. Marionette lines painted the corners of his lips, probably from decade's worth of laughter with his wife. He's a loyal man, I'll give him that. Frown lines and forehead lines brushed the spot between his brows, those probably from years of trying to find a way to get my father to pay for his violation. The last time I saw the asshole was when I was 15 when my father and I sneakily attended a party for grandfather. I wasn't even afraid of him back then. Now he's much older than I remembered, and skinnier as well. I wasn't one to judge on how others weigh, but I knew he was struggling with lung issues because of his smoking. I guess the medical complications made him look this weary--this thin. If my family wasn't this dysfunctional, I would've asked him how he is. I would have assumed, that given how serious his ailment was, he would've stayed home and prayed to God he still has a place in heaven. Instead, he's here, ruining my fucking day. Was he really that excited to die?
"Pretty Maleficent of you to barge in here unannounced," I countered, cocking the gun and pointing it in front of him. He eyed it like it was a fucking joke and laughed at me, removing his homburg hat. He wore a blue car coat that ran above his knee, jeans, and a pair of his classic black boots.
"Maleficent barged in a Christening, sweet niece, not a wedding," he points, playing with the one of the flowers on top of the pillar like everything was casual, like he wasn't at gunpoint. God, my family are assholes. "Then again, your father never really was the type to talk about Fairytales."
"She whined about being uninvited," I countered once more, ignoring his last remark. I realized I could go on like this for as long as I am able. If uncle wasn't off to end me and my father, I'd say he could be my favorite. Both of us are admirers of snotty comebacks. "Is that why you're here? Because you weren't invited? Or maybe you have a deathwish, given your sickness and all?"
"Sure." He pouted his lips and took a step forward. The crowd gasped as if they were watching a fucking Telenovela. I heard the click of their guns, aiming it towards my uncle. But it was quickly followed by a rain of lasers coming from the balcony. It was blinding, like red rays from the sun. Each De Marchi man had lasers on their shoulder, their heads, their backs. My uncle smirked at the sight, sneeringly raising his hands in the air.
When I looked around, I realized that the children were ushered inside, and some of the men are now left to witness our exchange. Despite the threat of the red dot, Lucas' family remained on their toes, their guns still pointed at my uncle. It was odd seeing the De Marchi clan defend me. They would usually place millions worth of bets on who would be the first one to have my head.
"36 of your men are dead, Caterina," Matteo informed. Then he looked over my shoulder, pointed a finger at Lucas and said, "37 of yours."
"What is it that you want?" I pressed.
"I always told your father, that number is nothing if they're all a bunch of buffoons," he pointed out in Italian.
"You came all the way from Italy to tell me that?" I snorted, decocking the gun and putting it down, feeling defeated. It was pointless. The rest of the men around me followed suit. And the red dots disappeared. I guess there was no point threatening him because he came prepared.
"Look at that," Matteo pointed, ignoring my question. He pursed his lips together, nodding as he studied his surroundings. "I would've never imagined that the De Marchi clan would protect this Santelli cagna." Santilli Bitch. My nose steamed in rage.
"Jealous much, uncle? You should've told your kid to stanch Lucas before I did," I sneered. Uncle Matteo always wanted his would-be daughter to be with a De Marchi. It was his biggest goal. He had that planned out before I was even born, before my father violated the rule. It was a great plan, two of the most powerful families, united in marriage. The generation after that was going to be powerful. But then the Santelli image was stained because my father fucked everything up. "Oh wait, you don't have one. At least not legitimately. And not of age. First come, first serve, I guess."
I saw my uncle's face morph from amused to hateful. I can almost see the steam coming from his nose and ears.
It was a low blow, I know. It was a known fact that my uncle and his wife had had a hard time conceiving. I hadn't seen it myself, but I can only imagine the look he had when his biggest and only dream shattered before his eyes when his wife had her first miscarriage. Then another one. And another one. And another. They stopped trying on the fifth time they lost a child. The pain was nothing, but the way they felt defeated, the depression, it was too much. So they chose to adopt instead. It's uncommon in the Mafia custom, but they were desperate. Cate Santelli was a once innocent child abandoned by her parents. Now she is a six-year-old, stuck in the horrible cages of the Mafia. I just hope that she accepts her fate despite not having a drop of Santelli blood in her system.
"You kiss your mother with that mouth, niece?" he counters, his eyes narrowing. "Oh wait, she's dead, because she gave birth to you." I deserved it, I guess. Fuck! I was so mad at his comeback that I wanted to laugh, to run to him and hug him. Despite him occasionally scheming against me and my father, he was family after all. And he was the only one that was my blood to come to my wedding.
My shoulders sagged in relief, cocking my head to the side to study my aged uncle. "I must say, I missed your face, uncle."
"I must say I missed your sass, dear niece."
"This is a cute reunion." My head snapped, turning to the owner of the voice behind me. Lucas was walking towards us, a revolver in his hand. He steps closer, pointing the gun at Matteo. Immediately, the red dots from uncle's men returned, all pointed at Lucas. It was almost funny, the way the beams looked at him, like they were straight tentacles coming from inside him. Lucas halted on his feet and put his hands in the air. I stepped back, covering his red-dotted chest with my body. Immediately, they disappeared. Thought so. My uncle was not here to kill me.
"Lucas De Marchi," Uncle acknowledged. He gave Lucas the look; from his brushed hair to his well-polished shoes. He had the same look my father had when he doesn't like something he sees.
"Matteo," Lucas nodded. He shifts on his feet, tucking the revolver on the back waistband of his pants.
"You wedded my niece without sending her favorite uncle an invite," uncle pointed, sarcasm laced his tone.
"She chose not to invite you, Matteo," Lucas informed. "And as far as she's concerned, the only blood family she has left is dead. I made sure of it." I turned to meet Lucas' gaze. I discovered that there were lesser De Marchi men in the garden, and the majority of them were replaced by uniformed security, guns ready in case. Harriet was gone as well, Chase remained on the platform, making sure that the unseen guards somewhere were in position.
Fuck.
Lucas realized his mistake too late. Matteo's eyes grew in disbelief, and a wicked grin started to form on his face.
"So, it's true." Uncle let out a dry chuckle. "You killed my brother?"
"He's never been a brother to you, since he married my mother. Just like I've never been a niece to you," I interrupted, pointing a finger at him. Uncle eyed my painted index finger, like it was ridiculous of me to do it. Everything was ridiculous. Now that Lucas finally let the information out, we were on a line. I don't know if my Santelli security would follow command from me, or would they remain loyal to my father. I don't know if I get out of here alive if ever this will turn into a shootout.
"That's not true, Caterina," uncle tsked, shaking his head. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or if he's amused. "He is my brother. We bonded before he fucked everything up, you know. And it hurts me to know that your husband killed him."
Husband.
I almost forgot that Lucas is not my husband. Was he? We didn't even have our kiss. The priest didn't have the chance to call us husband and wife. But whatever, we had all this shit prepared, I guess it counts.
"You're hurt that it wasn't you who killed him," Lucas said, and uncle narrowed his eyes.
"True," uncle answered, pursing his lips and tucked his hands inside the pockets of his coat. I flinched, cocking and raising my gun at him once more. God! I wanted to shoot someone. But I controlled my fingers from accidentally pulling the trigger. Thankfully, no red dots came for me. I guess that confirmed my assumption that he didn't want to harm me.
"Relax, Caterina." He wrinkled his nose. I noticed how rough his voice is now. "I'm cold is all. I'm not here to kill you."
"Then why are you here?" I asked the same question I've been asking him since the start of our banter. I lower my gun, not caring that it's cocked. Uncle took a step back and sat on the nearest chair. I reminded myself that he was sick, and that as much as I want to make him suffer—as much as I want to kill him with my bare hands—he has a wife back home, and a fucking kid. Coming from a child without one parent, I didn't want Cate to grow up without a father. And I didn't want my kid cousin (probably the only one not programmed to hate me) to blame me for being fatherless. Even though my hand itches to shoot the bastard. Maybe just by the thigh.
"I came to attend your wedding, of course," he said. He crossed his legs and leaned back on the chair, probably studying me and Lucas ganging up on him. "I heard about what happened in Mexico, and about my brother being killed by a De Marchi of all people. I came to see you and confirm the information."
"You've been hunting me and my father since I was a child. We have been on the run since. And you're now telling me you're here to check up on me?" I asked, unable to understand.
"Basically."
"Then why kill my men?'
"They didn't want to let me in."
"Because you weren't invited."
"But you're my niece."
"You're expecting me to believe that you're not here with an ill intention? You have wanted to kill me since I was a baby."
He chuckled. Lucas and I exchanged a confused look. "I remember you having the cutest nose. And correction, dear niece, I wanted to kill your father because he fucked a Russian, and disobeyed the rule that made our family—this Mafia—a working system. You're a kid. It wasn't your fault. And you killing that bastard proves how much of a Santelli you are."
"Weren't you listening? Lucas did the deed."
"Without your permission? Highly doubtful," he said with a laugh. "I think that you wanted him dead but couldn't do it. Maybe you couldn't finish it. So, you ask for Lucas' help here to finish it himself. Such a great team you two make. Your father was smart to let you marry Lucas."
I couldn't believe that this was coming out of my uncle's mouth. Sure, I expected him to be kinder than others, but I didn't expect him to spill some tea like that. It was almost casual. Like I hadn't been running, hadn't been looking over my shoulder for him to surprise me in the streets and kill me.
"You were never planning on killing me, were you uncle?" I asked, blinking.
"Never."
"And these men my father told me about? The Mafia men hunting us down, they weren't hunting me at all."
"No," he answered. "They're hunting your father. Not his innocent child. All the more reason why I hate him so much. He took you away, and hid you from us. Your family. Because if he told you the truth, he would be completely alone. He lost your mother, he couldn't lose you, too."
This is new information. Even to Lucas.
My father has been lying to me from the very beginning. He really did use me to his advantage, to save his sorry ass. I wasn't supposed to be this paranoid, this damaged. I was never supposed to hate the people he told me hated him—hated me. I had a family. And he took that away from me. All my life I wanted one. Not just my selfish father, not just Chase who I needed to pay to have around, and most certainly not just with the ghost stories of my mother.
I was never given the responsibility to save our bloodline. I was never given the responsibility to bring us back up in the social food chain of the mob. I was used, played at.
I realized; I was never obliged to marry Lucas. Because I was never in trouble in the first place. I never needed saving. I never needed him.
Then I remembered. Perhaps the priest's failure to call us husband and wife, the lack of the sacred kiss to seal the deal, it counted. It mattered.
It changes everything.