THE MAFIA PRINCESS'S SILENT SCARS

Shots Fired

SALVATORE

The wedding is at a fancy hotel in Chicago. When we arrive, people start staring at us. Many eyes follow us as Adrian and the others sit in the first two rows on the right. There are only eight of us, but the left side, where the Italians are sitting, is full. All twenty rows are packed with serious faces. It looks like no one is happy about someone FROM their group marrying into the Bratva, but they’re here for the gossip and free food.

Italians really care about celebrations. There are big white flowers everywhere, ribbons on every chair, and white petals on the floor. For them, it’s all about showing off.

While others sit, Kostya and I stand near the first row. The Italians start whispering to each other, looking at us. Most of them quickly look away when they see my face and look at Kostya instead. He has long blonde hair and a nice smile, so the women think he’s the one getting married.

I walk to the front, where the officiant is waiting. Kostya, my best man, follows me but stops two steps to my right.

When everyone sees I’m the groom, there’s a loud gasp, and the room goes quiet.

I look around at the Italians, who are staring at me in shock, and meet Thomas Russo’s eyes. He’s supposed to walk his daughter down the aisle, but he’s sitting in the middle of the first row with a smug smile. His wife and two daughters sit next to him, looking surprised.

I wonder where Mia’s brother is. She’s close to him, so it’s strange he’s not here.

Just as I wonder if I should have met Mia before the wedding, the wedding march starts. I hope she won’t run away when she sees the scars on my face.

She won’t run, though because she’s mine and no one not even her can take her away from me.

MIA

I look at the white door in front of me, thinking about what is beyond it. Katherine, my cousin and bridesmaid, fixes my veil.

Sold. I’ve been sold to someone else’s plan. There was nothing I could do to stop this unless I ruined my sister’s life to save my own. There’s no turning back now. I’ll keep going, my head high, to show my father he hasn’t broken me.

He was angry when I said I would walk down the aisle alone. “What will people think?” he shouted.

I don’t care what people think. I won’t let the man who used me as a tool pretend to be a loving father. I won’t walk in with my face hidden, like a scared victim.

A hotel worker opens the door as the music starts to play. I take off the veil, let it fall to the floor. Katherine gasps, but I ignore her, take a deep breath, and walk into the reception hall.

SALVATORE

The woman I’ve been thinking about for months steps into the room, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. I knew she would be beautiful, but seeing her in person... I was wrong. She’s not just beautiful; she’s amazing. She wears a flowing white dress that trails behind her, and soft blonde curls fall over her shoulders. Her hair is the longest I’ve ever seen. She looks like a princess from a fairytale. I wonder what kind of villain I would be in that story.

She walks down the aisle with confidence, her eyes locked on mine. She doesn’t look scared of my scars or my eyepatch. She doesn’t flinch. She looks calm and determined.

She stands in front of me, so graceful and strong, and I feel a sudden urge to touch her, just to make sure she’s real. It’s a strange feeling. I don’t usually like physical contact with anyone, except Lena. I don’t seek it.

The officiant starts speaking, and as we turn to face him, I can’t help but touch the back of her hand lightly. It’s a small touch. She probably won’t even notice. The officiant keeps talking, but I can’t stop looking at my bride. She’s small, her delicate hand feels fragile next to mine. Breakable. But then she looks at me, and I see no fear in her eyes. Just calm strength.

MIA

He’s not what I thought. As the officiant keeps talking, I don’t hear anything. My attention is completely on the man next to me. When I first saw him at the end of the aisle, I almost tripped. Only years of practice on stage kept me steady. He’s built like a fighter, with broad shoulders filling his jacket. Wearing black pants and a shirt, with dark hair and an eyepatch, he looks like an angel of revenge.

I didn’t notice the scars at first because I was focused on his muscular body. I know there's eight pack underneath the suit he's wearing. On his face though,the biggest scar goes from above his eyebrow, down his face, under the eyepatch, and to his jaw. Another scar runs next to it, down to just above the corner of his lips. One on his chin goes down his neck and disappears under his shirt collar. I can’t imagine what caused these scars, but it must have been something horrible. Most men would grow a beard to cover them, but my soon-to-be husband doesn’t care. He’s clean-shaven, like he doesn’t care what people think.

The officiant finishes his speech, and a man brings forward a small velvet box with the wedding rings. Salvatore takes the smaller ring and looks at me, waiting. I raise my hand, and he slides the ring onto my finger without touching my skin, as if he’s avoiding it. I take the bigger ring and hold it out to him, but instead of offering his hand, he takes the ring from me and puts it on his finger.

The officiant says we’re married and points to a big open book on the table. There’s no “you may kiss the bride” moment, and I wonder if that’s on purpose or just a mistake. The officiant looks nervous and avoids looking at my husband.

Salvatore picks up the pen, signs his name, and then hands it to me. I look up and see him watching me closely, like he’s waiting for me to run away. Without breaking our gaze, I raise an eyebrow and then sign my name: Mia Orlov. It’s official.

SALVATORE

I watch as the guests rush to the buffet, filling their plates and talking loudly. Mia stands next to me, quietly watching the scene. She doesn’t seem to like crowds, and I understand that.

Adrian comes over to tell me he’s leaving with Dimitri, probably to get back to his wife, who stayed at home. I’m surprised he even came to the wedding, considering how protective he is of her. He turns to Mia, introduces himself, and offers his hand. As their hands meet, I feel a sudden urge to pull Adrian’s hand away from my wife.

“Do you want to leave?” I ask after Adrian walks away.

Mia looks around the room, looks up at me, and nods. I start walking toward the door, signaling Kostya and the others to follow. Just as we get close to the exit, I feel Mia’s hand lightly touch my arm. For a moment, I tense, but then force myself to relax. She looks at the table where her family is sitting, like she wants to say goodbye. I change direction and walk toward them.

Her younger sister jumps up from her seat and runs to Mia, hugging her waist and whispering something in her ear. Mia steps back and begins using sign language. I watch but keep my face neutral, making sure I don’t react.

“We’re leaving. Everything’s fine. I’ll message you tomorrow, and we’ll talk.”

“Dad will be mad if you leave so soon,” her sister says softly.

“You can tell him to go to hell,” Mia signs clearly, making sure her sister understands every word. She pulls her sister toward me.

The girl swallows but quickly smiles. She doesn’t offer her hand, and I’m glad. I don’t mind shaking hands when I have to, but I’d rather avoid them.

“I’m Annabelle. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Orlov.”

I notice Annabelle is the only one from her family Mia introduces by name. With the rest, I only nod briefly. It makes sense, since we were enemies not long ago.

Annabelle turns to talk to Mia when suddenly, a loud gunshot rings out across the room.