HELENA’S POV
A month later, it was my wedding day-a day I once thought I’d never experience again. Yet here I was, standing in the grand chapel with its towering stone walls, ancient wooden pews, and arched ceilings that seemed to stretch toward the heavens. The air was thick with the scent of lilies, and the soft hum of the organ echoed through the sacred space.
Despite the joy and the wealth surrounding me, the past weeks had been tense. Every moment felt borrowed, every shadow held the potential for danger. Dante’s ghost lingered, not in whispers or memories, but in the palpable fear that someone, somewhere, was still following his orders. And yet, amidst it all, Matteo remained steadfast, his presence like a beacon guiding me through the storm.
The flowing wedding dress hugged my body, a delicate lace overlay cascading down to the floor. Pearls lined my hair, glimmering like tiny moons against the soft waves. My hand instinctively rested on my abdomen, where a barely-there bump held the life we’d created. No one could see it, but I could feel it-a quiet reminder of the future waiting for us.
“Ready?” my mother whispered, her arm linked with mine as we stood at the chapel’s entrance. Her voice carried a warmth I hadn’t felt in years.
I nodded, exhaling a shaky breath. “Yes mama.”
The double doors opened with a groan, and all at once, the world fell silent. Rows of faces turned toward me, their smiles beaming with joy. But my eyes sought only one person-Matteo.
He stood at the altar, his dark suit tailored to perfection, his hands clasped in front of him as he waited. The moment our gazes met, everything else faded away. His eyes softened, his lips curving into a smile that made my heart stumble.
My mother walked me down the aisle, her grip firm yet reassuring. I focused on Matteo, every step bringing me closer to the man who had become my sanctuary. When I reached him, he extended his hand, his touch grounding me in the present.
“You look stunning,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only me to hear.
A nervous smile tugged at my lips. “I’m nervous Matteo, it just seems I have to be looking over my shoulder each minute”
“I promise Helena, this day is going to be perfect,” he said with quiet conviction.
And for a time, it was. But it wasn’t perfect, it was almost perfect and I had been damn well waiting for that catastrophe
The ceremony passed in a blur of vows and exchanged rings. I barely remembered the words I spoke, only the way Matteo’s hands trembled slightly as he slid the band onto my finger. When the officiant pronounced us husband and wife, and Matteo’s lips claimed mine, the world felt like it had been stitched back together.
But perfection is fragile.
At the reception, the room pulsed with life. Laughter and music swirled together, filling the grand hall where crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light over the crowd. Guests twirled on the dance floor, their movements a blur of color and joy. Matteo held me close as we danced, his hand firm on my waist, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered promises of forever.
For a moment, I allowed myself to believe it.
Then I saw him.
A stranger in the sea of familiar faces, his presence like a crack in the glass. His gaze was sharp, assessing, and it lingered on me just a second too long. My chest tightened, my breath hitching as I tried to focus on Matteo’s voice.
“What’s wrong?” Matteo asked, his tone laced with concern.
I couldn’t answer. The stranger was gone, swallowed by the crowd as if he’d never been there. But the unease remained, curling in my stomach like a living thing.
I forced myself to smile, to nod as Matteo led me back to the table. Yet the feeling lingered-an invisible thread pulling tighter with every passing second. The air felt heavier, the music sharper, as if the world was on the edge of shattering.
Then I heard it.
A soft swoosh, barely perceptible over the din of the celebration. My instincts screamed, and without thinking, I grabbed Matteo and pulled him to the floor.
Chaos erupted.
Gunshots rang out, the sharp cracks reverberating off the marble walls. Screams filled the air as the crowd scattered, bodies colliding in their desperate rush to escape. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else.
“Helena, are you okay?” Matteo’s voice cut through the noise, his hands gripping my arms as he scanned me for injuries.
“I’m fine,” I managed, my voice trembling. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” he said firmly, his eyes blazing with determination.
I turned my head and froze. The stranger was on the floor, writhing in pain as blood pooled beneath him. Standing over him was Paulo, his gun still raised, his expression unreadable.
“Helena, stay down!” Matteo ordered, shielding me with his body as he scanned the room for more threats.
My mind raced, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. “He actually did it,” I whispered, my voice thick with disbelief. “Dante had someone watching you. Even in death, he-” My voice broke, fear gripping me. “What if there are others? What if he’s just the first?”
Matteo’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with fury. He pulled me into his arms, his grip protective and unyielding.
“I’ll find them,” he vowed, his voice dark with promise. “And I’ll kill them all.”
For a moment, I clung to him, letting his strength anchor me. But even as his words offered comfort, the unease remained, a shadow that refused to be banished.
Because this wasn’t over. It had only just begun