The Don's Undoing

Serafina

My husband... no, my supposed husband is lying at my feet with a hole in his head.

And I'm standing beside him, frozen, my face and white wedding dress splattered with his still warm blood.

Thirty seconds ago we were exchanging vows. The prist had just declared us husband and wife when the doors slammed open and gunshots rang out from every direction.

Now I'm watching the life drain from Antonio's eyes as blood pools beneath his body.

Shouts erupt around me as guests dive for cover, screams echoing through the church.

The priest is already on his knees, his bible raised above his head as he chants something under his breath. One of the bridesmaids has fainted, and somewhere in the church, I can hear people crying.

But I can't bring myself to move, remaining rooted to the spot, my fingers digging into the fabric of my bloodstained dress, as if letting go will somehow make this nightmare real.

Do I feel sad?

No.

If anything, I feel relieved that I don't have to spend the rest of my life married to a man old enough to be my father.

But this isn't exactly the kind of situation where I can smile or celebrate. Because there's a very big chance that I'll be the next person, the madman who crashed my wedding decides to shoot.

Suddenly, footsteps echo against the marble floor as they draw closer to me.

My breath catches in my throat as I keep my eyes fixed on the ground. I don't need to look up to know who it is. I can feel it in the way the church falls eerily silent around me.

The footsteps stop beside me, and I stare at a pair of polished black shoes inches away from the blood staining the marble floor.

My heart pounds painfully against my ribs as I fist my dress tighter.

If I look up, I'll die.

I know it and don't want to test that theory.

My eyes widen as Antonio's fingers claw weakly at the marble floor.

How the fuck is he still alive?

The man standing beside me plants the toe of his shoe against Antonio's shoulder and nudges him onto his back.

Antonio let's out a wet, choking sound as his bloodied hand lifts again reaching for the leg of the man's trousers.

"I warned you what would happen," the man says quietly.

Then the gun shot explodes through the church followed by more screaming.

I flinch.

Bile rises in my throat as the metallic smell of blood envelopes me once again and I can't tell which disgusts me more, the blood or Antonio's kisses.

I didn't love Anthonio. Hell I didn't even know the bastard until yesterday.

But I do know no one deserves to die like that.

Then again... at least this saves me from having to do it myself.

I hear the man sigh, "Move him."

His rough voice sends shivers racing down my spine. And for a horrifying second, I almost bend down thinking he is talking to me.

But two men in black suits rush forward instead and drag Antonio's body away.

Then there is silence as he just stands there, not speaking or moving.

The air around me feels suffocating.

Against my better judgement, I dare to glance up, and what I see shocks me.

He's bowing his head, one hand still gripping the very gun he used to desecrate the church while the other moves slowly as he makes the sign of the cross.

Then his lips move in a prayer I can't hear.

What the hell?

What kind of man murders someone in a church and then asks God for forgiveness?

As if sensing my stare, he lifts his head again and finally looks at me.

His blue eyes meet mine, cold, dangerous, and breathtakingly beautiful. It is the kind of blue that reminds you of clear summer skies and not a man who just murdered someone in a church.

I look away immediately, my heart racing.

I shouldn't be thinking about this. I really shouldn't, but damn he is beautiful.

He takes a step toward me, and I'm forced to remember the situation I'm in.

I silently pray he decide I'm not worth whatever madness brought him here and just walk past me.

Who am I kidding?

The scent of his expensive cologne reaches me as he stops too close to me.

A single finger hooks beneath my chin and lifts my face until I am looking directly imto those impossible blue eyes again.

"Mrs. Riccardi."

Miss. Contini. I almost correct.

His voice is deep and controlled as his eyes stare down at me.

My throat tightens.

"Your husband is dead." He states the obvious.

No shit.

"You killed him."

"Yes," he replies without remorse.

"He owed me a debt."

"Then it is paid."

His expression doesn't change at all as he continues, "No, Mrs. Riccardi."

I blink once and then again.

The fuck is no?

"The debt transfers to you."

My blood turns cold.

"What?"

He just keeps looking at me.

I let out a shaky laugh because surely I didn't hear him well. There is no way in hell he said that.

"That's not how debts works"

"In my world, it does."

My mouth opens to speak, then closes as I realise he is serious.

I slap his hand away and take a step back.

"And what bullshit world is that?"

For the first time, a different expression flickers in his eyes, surprise as though he expected me to know.

"Luciano De Santis."

The name doesn't ring a bell, but the gasps erupting around the church tells me it's a name that everyone fears, and I should fear too.

But right now I don't give two flying shit who Luciano De Santis is.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"There hasn't."

I shake my head.

"I'm not even related to him. Why should I pay a debt I know nothing about?" I try to reason with him.

He studies me for a moment before replying matter of factly, "You're his widow, Mrs. Riccardi."

"For all of thirty seconds!"