Chapter 2: The First Kiss Of Steel
447 Words
The wedding chapel smelled like gunpowder and gardenias.
Selena stood at the altar in a Vera Wang gown with a slit up to her thigh, the slit was not for fashion, but it was designed like that for the throwing knives strapped to her leg. The diamond choker at her throat wasn't jewelry; it was a garrote in disguise.
Dante's hands burned like brands through the lace at her waist.
"Till death do us part," he growled into her ear, his breath hot with whiskey and warning.
She smiled sweetly for the crowd of armed mafiosi and assassins. "In sickness and in health," she purred back, digging her nails into his wrists hard enough to draw blood.
The priest trembled as he pronounced them man and wife.
Dante didn't wait for permission. He yanked her against him, their first kiss tasting like violence and vengeance. His teeth cut her lip. She bit back harder.
When they pulled apart, the chapel erupted in gunfire.
Glass rained down as the chandelier exploded. Dante shoved Selena behind a marble pillar just as bullets chewed through the pew where she'd been standing.
"You planned this," he snarled, drawing twin pistols from his tuxedo jacket.
Selena flicked open her fan, the delicate lace hid razor wire. "Not everything's about you, husband."
Back-to-back they fought: Her fan sliced through a gunman's throat
His bullets found two heads in the balcony
A knife meant for her spine ended up in his hand, then in an attacker's eye
When the last body hit the floor, Dante grabbed her wrist. "Who trained you?"
She licked blood from her knuckles. "Daddy issues make for interesting childhoods."
The safehouse bedroom had one bed, three exits, seven hidden weapons, and enough tension to choke on
Dante tossed his bloodstained tie on the dresser. "I'll take first watch."
Selena unstrapped her garter holster. "I'll take the whole bed."
Their eyes locked in the dim light. Somewhere between the wedding and the bloodbath, the rules had changed. The knife at her thigh felt heavier than it had this morning.
When he reached for her, she expected violence.
His fingers brushed the bruise on her wrist instead. "Who really hired me, Selena?"
The safe behind the painting hummed. Right on schedule.
The steel box had a photo of Selena at 14, standing over a body, a bloodstained ballet slipper and her real birth certificate
Dante's phone buzzed with his mentor's final message:
"She was never the target. She's the weapon."
Selena pressed a gun to his temple. "Now you understand."
Outside, sirens wailed. Somewhere in the city, a church bell tolled midnight.
Dante did the one thing she never expected.
He laughed.
- Writer
