DON GAVINO'S OBSESSION

006: Gavino changed

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Neza

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I have two options.

Run away and never come back. Or marry the man waiting for me inside this church that doesn’t even come close to my dream wedding. My dream had flowers and lights, music and family who actually loved me. This one? Old wooden pews, faded paint on the walls, and enough mafia in attendance that if you lit a match, the whole place would go up in bullets before flames.

I chose the latter. And I don’t care how it ends… as long as Gavino and the entire Blodwyn family go down at the end of it.

The black SUV stopped in front of the small, lonely church sitting like a secret in the middle of nowhere. No other buildings, no sounds except the crunch of gravel under tires. Three identical cars pulled in behind us, Blodwyn’s men spilling out, suits sharp, eyes sharper. My stomach twisted. Every move I made today was being watched.

Signora was the first to step out. She smoothed her dress like this was some royal wedding and turned to me with that faint, polite smile she always wore. “Come, dear.” Her tone had the warmth of someone leading a lamb to slaughter.

I stepped down from the car, the hem of my white dress brushing against the dusty ground. The air smelled like rain hadn’t touched this place in years.

Before I could take more than three steps, my uncle Luca Moretti was already there. “You look so beautiful, Neza, my dear.” He kissed both my cheeks like he hadn’t avoided me for most of my life. His cologne was thick, masking the faint scent of whiskey on his breath.

“Long time, uncle,” I said flatly. The smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes.

“Smile, Neza. Today is such an important day.”

I forced the corners of my lips upward. “Right. Important day.”

I took his arm, letting him lead me toward the church. Every step made my chest tighter. The sound of muffled voices drifted out from inside, low and tense.

Salvatore Romano was standing at the front, tall, dressed in black like this was a funeral instead of a wedding, a skull tattoo inked at the bottom of his left eye, that I know is the symbol of the Romanos. His dark eyes swept over me, a slow calculating look that tells he's completely satisfied with the bargain. When I stopped in front of him, he smiled — slow, knowing.

“Wow,” he said, voice low enough for only me to hear. “You’re beautiful up close.”

I didn’t answer. My jaw locked.

The priest cleared his throat, ready to begin, but before he could speak, the church doors slammed open behind me.

Every head turned.

The air shifted.

Gavino walked in like the building belonged to him — like everyone in it was only breathing because he allowed it. Dark suit, no tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His gaze didn’t move left or right, just locked straight ahead… on me.

My chest tightened. My pulse quickened.

“What is this?” Salvatore muttered, his voice laced with irritation.

Gavino didn’t answer him. He kept walking, steps slow but certain, until he stood at the front beside me. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Gavino said, voice even but carrying enough weight to silence the priest completely. “This wedding isn’t happening.”

My breath caught. My nails dug into my palm.

Salvatore’s jaw clenched. “The agreement was clear. Neza marries me. We seal the peace.”

Gavino turned his head slightly, his lip curling just enough to show this wasn’t a discussion. “Then we’ll find another way to seal the peace.”

“There is no other way,” Salvatore shot back, his voice rising. “I want her, as agreed.”

Gavino’s eyes darkened. “Then let’s see how that’s going to happen.”

My heart was slamming against my ribs. I stepped back. “No,” I said quickly, the word sharper than I intended. “I’m not going with you.”

Gavino’s gaze snapped to me.

“I said no!” I repeated, backing away from him. My dress brushed against the pew, my heel catching on the edge. “I’m not—”

Before I could finish, Gavino’s arm hooked around my waist, yanking me forward. My breath whooshed out of me as he hoisted me onto his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

“Put me down!” I kicked, fists pounding against his back. “Gavino, I swear to God—”

The metallic click of a gun being drawn cut through the air.

“Put her down,” Salvatore said. His voice was low now, dangerous. I twisted my head enough to see the black barrel aimed directly at Gavino’s back. The priest scrambled behind the altar. Guests ducked low. The shuffle of movement filled the church as everyone tried to get out of the line of fire.

Mafia weddings. Always a possibility someone wasn’t leaving alive.

Gavino didn’t slow. “You’d be stupid to pull that trigger in my territory,” he said without looking back. His voice was calm — too calm. “Unless you don’t plan on leaving here breathing.”

Salvatore’s finger twitched on the trigger, but his eyes flicked around the room. Gavino’s men were everywhere — in the pews, along the walls, near the doors. Salvatore’s men were outnumbered. Badly.

I could feel the heat radiating off Gavino’s body, the steady rise and fall of his chest against my stomach as he walked. My hands clenched the back of his jacket, not sure if I wanted to push away or hold on.

Salvatore’s jaw tightened. Slowly, he lowered the gun. His men followed suit, but the air didn’t relax. If anything, it got heavier.

Gavino stopped at the doors, glancing over his shoulder. “Looks like the war just found its spark again.”

He carried me out into the fading daylight, the sound of the church doors slamming shut behind us echoing in my ears.

My heart was still racing, "What the hell are you doing, have you lost it, Gavino?”