THE RUSSO BRIDE

The Funeral

Rain fell like ash from a dying sky.

Alessia Moretti stood under a black umbrella, staring at the polished coffin slowly lowered into the ground.

Mud splashed against her heels in the process but all she could hear was the roar inside her head.

Her father was dead.

Three days ago, Marco Moretti had kissed her forehead before leaving for work. Three days ago, he promised they would finally leave their tiny apartment once he received his “final payment.”

Now he was six feet underground.

The priest continued speaking, but Alessia barely listened. Her fingers wrapped around the umbrella handle as cold wind swept through the cemetery.

Too many strangers stood around the grave. Men in expensive black suits watching silently, but none of them looked sad.

Suddenly she felt a chill crawl down her spine.

Her gaze shifted behind, and spotted the black SUVs parked near the cemetery. Dark windows, running engines and men standing beside them with emotionless faces.

Dangerous looking men.

“Miss Moretti.”

Alessia dragged her gaze away from the scary sight. An elderly priest stood beside her, rain dripping from his hood.

“Your father was a good man,” he said softly.

Something about his tone sounded wrong. Nothing about it was comforting, it felt like a warning.

“Did you know him well?” she asked quietly.

The priest hesitated. “Better than I should have.”

Before she could ask what that meant, one of the suited men near the gates stepped into the crowd, his gaze locking directly onto Alessia from across.

She looked up and her breath caught at the sight of him. Despite her somber state, her mind began to scrutinize him.

To do that, she stretched her neck all the way up, and her heart skipped a bit at his perfectly sculptured body. But it was his eyes that set him apart from every other man she had ever seen before.

The priest noticed immediately.

“You need to leave,” he whispered urgently to her.

“What?”

“Now.”

A look of confusion washed over her face, but the priest stepped back, lowering his eyes like he regretted speaking.

The funeral ended minutes later. People drifted away under umbrellas while Alessia remained beside the grave.

She couldn’t leave him.

Her father had been all she had.

Her mother died when she was eight. She had no siblings, and no relatives who cared enough to stay.

It had just been her and her father against the world. But he was gone and now she was alone.

“Alessia.”

She looked up and saw the man that had caught her attention approaching her.

The people that lingered cleared the way for him to go through. However, his focus was not on them. His dark eyes settled on her with an unsettling intensity.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He stopped in front of her, his voice low and controlled.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I knew your father.”

“My father?” She lifted a brow. “He never mentioned you.”

“He wouldn’t.” His expression turned cold but briefly.

“Anyways, Dante Russo.” He extended his hand slightly.

The name hit the air like a gunshot, causing Alessia to frown faintly.

There was some familiar in his name, though she couldn’t place where she had heard it before.

She was about to respond when another suited man approached him.

“Sir, we should leave.”

Dante ignored him, and kept his eyes on Alessia.

“Be careful tonight,” he said quietly.

“What does that mean?”

But he was already walking away.

Within seconds, the black vehicles disappeared into the rain.

Alessia just watched, confused yet curious. In her mind she wondered, “What the hell was that?”

…

Night had fallen by the time Alessia returned home.

The apartment hallway smelled of dust and old paint as she climbed the stairs slowly, exhausted.

She stepped inside the apartment and silence greeted her.

Her father’s glasses rested beside an unfinished crossword puzzle, his jacket, still hung near the door.

It felt like he should still be here.

Tears burned her eyes.

She dropped onto the couch, pressing her trembling hands against her face.

The police called it a robbery gone wrong but nothing about it made sense.

Her father had been terrified recently, he was distracted every time his phone rang, and before he died, he repeated one sentence constantly:

“If anything happens to me, trust nobody.”

Click.

Alessia froze.

The sound came from the kitchen, a small area carved from the living room.

Then another sound followed.

Silently, she rolled over from the couch, and peeped through the armrest. She saw a drawer opening and fear crawled violently through her chest.

But when the footsteps began to sound a little too close, she reached into her purse and grabbed a pen for self-defense.

A tall male figure emerged from the kitchen shadows, dressed in all black. Another appeared behind him and then another.

The first man that emerged spoke calmly. “Search the bedroom.”

She gasped.

He heard the sound and turned towards its direction. Before she could hide, he saw her and she saw him.

An amused smile spread across his face, as she pointed her pen towards him, and slowly rose to her feet.

“Get out of my apartment,” she whispered.

“Where did your father hide it?”

“I do¬-n’t kn-ow wh-at you’re tal-king about,” she stuttered.

“Wrong answer,” he said and stepped closer.

Swept with an adrenaline rush, Alessia tossed her pen directly towards his eyes.

“f**k!” He hissed through his teeth, his hand moving straight to the spot she had targeted.

Alessia took advantage of the distraction and bolted for the door. One of the masked men lunged toward her before she could get to her destination, and grabbed a hold of her.

She screamed out, her voice echoing around the tiny house, as she was dragged back to the center of the living room.

“You b***h! You’re going to regret what you did!” The number one spat out furiously.

She was pushed to her knees roughly, but forced to look at the eyes of her assaulter. Same eyes she had just grazed with her pen.

“I asked you before, and I’m asking again. Where did he hide it?”

“Even if I knew what you were talking about, I’ll never tell you!”

“You f*****g brat!” his hand reached out to smack her face.

It was inches away from connecting, when a shot fired straight at it from the door. The next shot sent a bullet straight into his heart.

As he landed on the ground with a thud, silence heavily descended. Silence interrupted by heavy footsteps.

“Which one of you is next?” Thick voice, as thick as thunder reverberated round the house.

Alessia’s gaze shifted. “You.” The word fell out of her lips in shocking waves.

Behind her, the rest of the men froze with fear.

His name hung in the air, unsaid. As if mentioning it alone was enough to cause an explosion.

“Hello again Alessia,” Dante Russo followed her voice, his gaze resting on her.

Alessia’s breath quickened. She couldn’t believe she was seeing him again.

One of the guys, despite his fear, took it upon himself to step up to the challenge.

“You shouldn’t interfere, Russo.”

Dante’s gaze snapped towards the audacious man. “She belongs to me now.”

“This isn’t your problem,” he retorted, despite the discrete warning signs from his fellow comrades.

Dante’s gun swung lazily between his fingers, a dangerous glint forming in his eyes. “It is now.”

His men stormed into the room, armed and ready for combat. In a split second, the intruders fled. Jumping over chairs, and flying through windows.

But not before a shot from one of Dante’s guys caught the mouthy one in the back of his head.

Alessia saw another dead body in her living room, and her knees buckled. She swayed towards the floor, but Dante was quick to catch her before she fell.

His firm grip steadied her by her shoulders, while his dark eyes studied her carefully.

“Who are you?” she questioned with a faint voice.

Dante glanced at the dead man on the floor before looking back at her.

“Your father stole something valuable,” he said quietly.

“My father wasn’t a thief,” she argued with the last strength left in her.

“No,” Dante replied. “But he made powerful enemies.”

Thunder blasted heavily, rattling the paper- thin house.

She jolted a little, alarm bells going off in her head. “What do they want from me?”

Dante’s expression darkened. “They think your father left it with you.”

“And did he?” she asked nervously.

He allowed silence prelude his response. After effectively gathering his thoughts, he dropped his hands off her shoulders, and closed the small gap between them.

“You’re not safe anymore, Alessia,” his voice lowered. “From this moment forward, you belong to the Russo family.”

Instantly, she felt nauseous. She clamped her eyes shut to fight off the wave, but it was too late.

Her legs gave way beneath her, as she fell unconscious.