The air tastes of sulfur and blood. The church, moments ago a sanctuary of silence, is now a deafening echo chamber of screams and automatic gunfire.
"Say them!" Stavros roars, shaking me. His grip on the lapels of my dress is bruising, anchoring me to the spot while bullets chew up the marble floor around us. "Say the goddamn words, Alina!"
I look at him. He’s insane. He’s a lunatic standing in a storm of lead, demanding I pledge my soul to him. But his eyes—wild, dilated, burning with a terrifying need—hold me captive more effectively than any chain. He isn't afraid of dying. He’s afraid of leaving this altar without claiming me.
"I take you!" I scream, my voice cracking over the sound of a submachine gun ripping through the front pews. "I take you, Stavros!"
"As your husband!" he co
