The bride was beautiful. A dress of pure white that seemed to shine against her dark skin. A hint of blush lit up her cheeks. Dark eyes shone with tears of joy as her fingers interlaced with the man she loved so dearly. Standing only an arms length away Cross wondered if she knew. Knew that she wouldn't live long enough to look back upon this day fondly. Then again, maybe she would. Maybe she would live a long and happy life. Her husband would grow to love her more and more with every passing day. She would have three children and they would be raised in a household full of love. They would cherish their every memory of their mother, even long after she had passed to the afterlife.
That wasn't the future Cross saw for her.
He saw red. Dark red. Blood spilled by a single act of violence.
