The organ music swells, shaking the ancient stone floor beneath my feet, but it sounds less like a wedding march and more like a funeral dirge. My father grips my arm.
His fingers are steel claws digging into my flesh through the heavy silk of my long sleeves. He isn't walking me down the aisle; he is marching me to a surrender.
"Head up," Dimitris whispers, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Do not let them see fear."
I force my chin up. I look out at the sea of faces in the pews.
To my left, the Kostas family. My brothers stand in the front row like statues carved from granite, their hands hovering near the waistbands of their tuxedos. Behind them, rows of soldiers masquerading as cousins and uncles watch the doors with dead eyes.
To my right, the Nikolaides clan. They look eve
