Chapter 8 Blood Stained Wedding Dress

Six months after the revelation of Marina's true parentage, I stood before a full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman reflected back at me. The wedding dress was a masterpiece of deception—elegant ivory silk overlaying a custom-made kevlar bodysuit, the delicate veil concealing ultra-thin steel wires that could be detached and weaponized in seconds. The bodice contained reinforced panels that could stop a bullet, and the flowing skirt concealed both my prosthetic leg and an impressive array of weapons.

"Something borrowed, something blue, something deadly, something new," I murmured, adjusting the diamond-and-blade hair comb that secured my veil.

The door opened behind me, and Gabriel entered, Marina balanced on his hip. At eighteen months old, she was a force of nature—curious, determined, and already showing signs of the formidable woman she would become. Her dark curls bounced as she reached for me.

"Mama pretty," she declared with the absolute certainty only a toddler could muster.

I took her from Gabriel, careful not to wrinkle my dress. "Thank you, little one. Are the security measures in place?"

Gabriel nodded. "Every entrance covered, snipers on all adjacent rooftops, three separate evacuation routes established. The cathedral's as secure as we can make it."

"And our special guests?"

"The Barzini delegation arrived ten minutes ago. Victor's with them, fully cooperative with the security checks." Gabriel hesitated. "There's still no sign of the Calabrese family."

I frowned. The Calabreses were distant Moretti cousins who had emerged as the primary threat following Victor's revelations. They had orchestrated the attack on Marina's birthday, hoping to eliminate both the child and any documentation of her claim to Salvatore's fortune. The past six months had seen three more assassination attempts, each more sophisticated than the last.

"Keep watching for them," I instructed. "They won't miss this opportunity."

The cathedral wedding was Dante's idea—a public statement of our union, designed to present a united front to both our allies and enemies. The first ceremony, performed hastily after Marina's birth, had been a private affair with only Gabriel as witness. This one would be attended by the heads of every major family in the region, a demonstration of the new Moretti-Barzini alliance that had upended the criminal hierarchy.

Gabriel departed, and I set Marina down to toddle around the bridal suite. She immediately gravitated toward a bouquet of white lilies, reaching for the flowers with chubby hands.

"Careful, little viper," I cautioned, using my nickname for her. "Those have thorns."

The door opened again, this time admitting Victor Barzini. He had aged visibly in the past six months, the strain of our unlikely alliance etched into the lines of his face. Still, he carried himself with the dignity of the old-world mafioso he was.

"You look beautiful," he said, his eyes softening as he watched Marina play. "Her mother would be proud."

The mention of my sister no longer brought the sharp pain it once had. Learning the truth about Marina's parentage had given me a connection to my sister I'd thought lost forever.

"Have you spoken with Dante?" I asked, adjusting my veil.

Victor nodded. "He's ready. Nervous, though he'd die before admitting it."

I smiled at that. The mighty Reaper, nervous about a wedding ceremony. Though we'd been legally married for over a year, this public declaration held significance beyond mere paperwork. It symbolized the merging of our worlds, the legitimization of our unusual family structure.

"And the Calabreses?" I asked.

"Still no confirmation of their attendance." Victor's expression darkened. "Which concerns me more than if they'd simply declined. Antonio would want to witness this personally."

Antonio Calabrese—Dante's second cousin and Salvatore's nephew—had emerged as our primary adversary. His claim to the Moretti fortune was strong but would be superseded by Marina's if her parentage became officially recognized. The DNA tests had already confirmed what Victor had told us—Marina was indeed Salvatore's biological daughter and my sister's child.

"He'll make a move today," I said with certainty. "It's too symbolic an occasion for him to ignore."

"Which is precisely why we've prepared accordingly." Victor approached Marina, who immediately raised her arms to be lifted. Despite everything, she had formed a bond with her great-uncle, responding to him with unguarded affection that never failed to soften his hardened features.

A knock at the door announced the arrival of the wedding coordinator, a stern woman who was actually one of Dante's most efficient lieutenants.

"Five minutes, Ms. Rossi," she informed me.

Victor set Marina down and offered me his arm. "Shall we? I believe I'm meant to give you away."

The irony of Victor Barzini walking me down the aisle to marry Dante Moretti wasn't lost on either of us. Six months ago, we had been mortal enemies. Now we were family, bound by the child who carried both our bloodlines.

The cathedral was a magnificent fourteenth-century structure, its soaring arches and stained glass windows creating an atmosphere of solemn grandeur. As the heavy doors opened and the wedding march began, I scanned the assembled guests with a professional eye—noting positions, identifying potential threats, calculating escape routes.

The pews were filled with an unusual congregation—crime family heads, corrupt officials, legitimate business associates, and trusted lieutenants. Everyone had been searched thoroughly upon entry, but I knew better than most how many weapons could be concealed on a determined individual.

At the altar stood Dante, resplendent in a custom tuxedo that undoubtedly concealed as many weapons as my dress. His eyes locked with mine as I proceeded down the aisle, his expression a complex mixture of pride, possession, and something deeper that still surprised me when I glimpsed it.

Gabriel stood beside him as best man, vigilant despite his formal attire. Marina was already at the front, serving as our unconventional flower girl under the watchful eye of Dr. Chen—the memory specialist who had become an unlikely ally after explaining her role in our complex history.

As Victor placed my hand in Dante's, he murmured something in Italian that made Dante's eyes narrow fractionally before he nodded in acknowledgment. A warning, perhaps, or simply the traditional threat of what would happen if he failed to cherish his bride.

The ceremony proceeded with surprising normalcy, the priest—well-compensated for his discretion—leading us through vows that felt surreal given our circumstances. When Dante spoke his promises, his voice carried clearly through the cathedral.

"I, Dante Salvatore Moretti, take you, Luna Marina Rossi, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward..." He paused, a slight smile playing at his lips before adding, "Until death do us part—though, darling, you've already killed me three times."

A ripple of nervous laughter moved through the congregation. Only our inner circle understood the reference to my months of careful poisoning during his fake coma.

When my turn came, I spoke the traditional words but added my own amendment: "I promise to protect what is ours with every weapon at my disposal, to stand with you against all enemies, and to never again poison your morning coffee—unless absolutely necessary."

This earned another laugh, though Dante's eyes held a promise that we'd discuss that particular addition later.

As we exchanged rings, I felt the unique weight of the platinum band Dante slid onto my finger. It was heavier than a normal wedding ring, containing a miniature explosive device activated by pressing three concealed points in sequence. His "guarantee of love," he had called it when presenting it to me—a way to ensure I always had an escape option.

The priest pronounced us husband and wife, and Dante pulled me into a kiss that was equal parts performance and genuine passion. As applause erupted from the congregation, I caught movement from the corner of my eye—a server entering through a side door that should have been secured.

I broke the kiss, my body tensing. Dante registered the change immediately, following my gaze to the approaching figure. The "server" made eye contact with me, his hand moving beneath his tray.

"Down!" I shouted, pushing Dante aside as the first shot rang out.

The cathedral erupted into chaos. Guests dove for cover as more attackers emerged from multiple entry points. I ripped the steel wires from my veil, whipping them toward the nearest gunman with practiced precision. They wrapped around his throat, constricting as I pulled sharply.

Dante had already drawn his weapon, firing with deadly accuracy while shielding Marina with his body. Victor had the child in his arms, retreating toward a predetermined exit as Gabriel and our security team engaged the attackers.

I tore away the bottom portion of my dress, freeing my movement as I activated the mechanisms in my prosthetic leg. A throwing knife shot from a concealed compartment, finding its mark in an attacker's chest.

"Calabrese's men?" Dante called to me over the gunfire.

"Plus hired guns," I confirmed, recognizing some of the attackers as professional mercenaries. "They were waiting for the ceremony to conclude."

We fought our way toward the side chapel where one of our evacuation routes was located. I took down two more attackers, my wedding dress now stained with their blood as well as my own from a graze to my arm.

As we reached the chapel, a familiar figure stepped into our path—Antonio Calabrese himself, flanked by four armed guards.

"Congratulations on your wedding," he sneered, training his weapon on us. "I brought a gift. It's called widowhood."

Before he could fire, a shot rang out from behind us. One of Antonio's guards collapsed, blood blooming across his chest. Dr. Chen stood in the doorway, a small pistol in her surprisingly steady hands.

"Get Marina out," she ordered. "I'll hold them off."

Antonio's momentary surprise gave us the opening we needed. Dante fired twice, eliminating another guard as I engaged a third with the blades from my prosthetic. Within seconds, Antonio found himself alone, his remaining guard having fled.

"You're outnumbered, cousin," Dante said coldly, advancing on him. "And you've made a critical error attacking my family on my wedding day."

Antonio's eyes darted between us, calculating his odds. "You think this changes anything? That child is an abomination—a Barzini-Moretti mongrel. The families will never accept her as Salvatore's heir."

"The families don't have a choice," Victor said, reentering the chapel with Marina safely in Gabriel's care behind him. "The DNA tests are conclusive, the will is ironclad, and now—" he gestured to Dante and me "—she has the protection of both families' most lethal members."

Antonio's face contorted with rage. "You betrayed your own blood, Victor, siding with them!"

"She is my blood," Victor replied simply. "More than you ever were."

With a snarl of frustration, Antonio reached inside his jacket. Dante moved with inhuman speed, crossing the distance between them before Antonio could retrieve whatever weapon he concealed. The sound of breaking bone echoed through the chapel as Dante crushed his cousin's wrist.

"The thing about family, Antonio," Dante said conversationally as he forced the other man to his knees, "is that you don't get to choose who's in it. But you do get to choose who stays in it."

He looked to me, a silent question in his eyes. This was my call—Marina was my blood, my sister's child. The decision of Antonio's fate belonged to me.

I approached slowly, the train of my bloodstained wedding dress dragging behind me. "Marina deserves to know her heritage," I said, drawing a slim blade from my bodice. "Both sides of it. The Moretti strength, the Barzini cunning, and the Rossi loyalty." I pressed the blade against Antonio's throat. "You threatened that heritage."

Fear showed in his eyes as the cold metal bit into his skin. "I have money," he gasped. "Offshore accounts. Information. Whatever you want."

"What I want," I replied softly, "is for my daughter to grow up without looking over her shoulder for the next Calabrese assassin."

His eyes widened as understanding dawned. "You can't just kill me. The other families—"

"Will understand that this was a matter of succession," Victor interjected. "An internal Moretti affair that has been... resolved."

I looked to Dante once more, sharing a moment of perfect understanding with my husband. With a swift, practiced motion, I sliced—not through Antonio's throat, but across his face, a deep cut from temple to chin that would leave a permanent, unmistakable scar.

"You'll live," I told him as he gasped in pain and surprise. "As a reminder to everyone of what happens when you move against our family. But if you ever come near Marina again, what I take next won't grow back."

Dante pulled Antonio to his feet, handing him over to Gabriel. "Take him to the warehouse. Make sure the message is delivered to any remaining Calabrese loyalists."

As Gabriel dragged the bleeding man away, I turned to find Marina watching the scene with solemn eyes. Too young to understand what had happened, but old enough to sense its importance.

"Mama hurt?" she asked, pointing to the blood on my dress.

I knelt before her, careful to keep my bloodied hands from touching her perfect white flower girl dress. "No, little viper. Mama's fine. And so are you."

Victor cleared his throat. "The guests?"

"Being managed," Dr. Chen reported. "Gabriel's men are providing the official story—a failed robbery attempt, quickly contained. Most have already been escorted out."

Dante surveyed the destruction of the chapel—bullet holes in ancient wood, blood on marble floors, shattered stained glass. "Not exactly the wedding I planned."

"I don't know," I said, rising to stand beside him. "It seems perfectly appropriate for us."

He smiled, pulling me close despite the blood and debris. "True. Though I was hoping we'd at least make it to the reception before the shooting started."

"Speaking of which," Victor interjected, "we still have fifty of the most powerful criminal figures in the region waiting at the venue. It would be... impolitic to cancel now."

I looked down at my ruined dress, then at Dante's tuxedo, which had fared little better. "I suppose a costume change is in order."

Two hours later, we made our grand entrance at the reception—I in a sleek red gown that concealed fresh bandages and a different set of weapons, Dante in a fresh tuxedo that showed no evidence of our earlier battle. Marina, blissfully unaware of how close she'd come to danger, charmed the assembled guests as she toddled between tables.

The reception proceeded with a veneer of normalcy that was almost comical given the events at the cathedral. Champagne flowed, music played, and criminal empires were subtly realigned through strategic conversations and calculated shows of respect.

As Dante led me onto the dance floor for our first dance, he pulled me close enough to whisper, "Three assassination attempts prevented, one traitor identified among the catering staff, and two rival families negotiating a truce because they're terrified of us. All in all, a successful wedding day."

I laughed softly, my hand finding the concealed weapon at his waist as we swayed to the music. "And to think, some couples just worry about the weather or the cake being dry."

His eyes darkened as he spun me elegantly. "Speaking of cake, I believe tradition calls for us to feed each other a piece."

"Worried I might poison it?" I teased.

"On the contrary," he replied, his lips brushing my ear. "I'm looking forward to taking that risk. Life's been far too predictable lately."

As the dance ended, he pulled me into a kiss that drew appreciative murmurs from the crowd. Against my lips, he whispered, "By the way, that amendment to your vows about poisoning my coffee 'if necessary'—we will be discussing that later."

"I look forward to it," I replied with a smile that promised danger and desire in equal measure.

Later, as we prepared to cut the cake, Dante addressed our unusual gathering. Raising his glass, he offered a toast that perfectly captured our unconventional union.

"To my bride," he said, his eyes finding mine across the room. "Who first entered my life with the intention of killing me, and instead gave me a reason to live. May our enemies always underestimate her, and may I never make that mistake."

Laughter rippled through the crowd as I joined him for the toast, adding my own words: "And to my husband, who turned my perfect assassination plan into the most complicated relationship of my life. May our enemies fear your reputation, and may our allies never forget why that reputation exists."

As glasses clinked and applause erupted, Marina ran to us, arms raised to be included in the moment. Dante lifted her effortlessly, and the three of us stood together—the most deadly family in the room, bound by blood both real and chosen.

The wedding cake was cut, slices distributed, and tradition observed as Dante and I fed each other without incident—though the look in his eyes suggested he'd been half-expecting me to try something. Perhaps on our anniversary, I thought with amusement.

As the evening progressed, Victor approached us, Marina now sleeping peacefully in his arms. "The Calabrese situation has been contained," he reported quietly. "Gabriel was thorough in delivering your message."

"And the succession?" Dante asked.

"The paperwork will be filed tomorrow. Marina's claim to Salvatore's estate will be officially recognized." Victor looked down at the sleeping child. "She'll be the wealthiest toddler in the city."

"And the most protected," I added firmly.

Victor nodded, his expression softening as he regarded Marina. "I never thought I'd see this day—our families united instead of at war."

"Don't get sentimental, Victor," Dante warned, though without real heat. "We're still keeping a close eye on your operations."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." The old mafioso smiled thinly. "Family doesn't mean blind trust, after all."

As the reception wound down, Dante and I prepared to depart for a brief honeymoon—though "honeymoon" was perhaps too normal a word for what would essentially be a strategic retreat to a fortified compound while Gabriel and Victor solidified our position following the day's events.

Standing at the exit, receiving the final congratulations from departing guests, I felt a strange sense of completion. My journey had begun with a quest for vengeance, driven by grief for my sister. Now I stood beside the man I'd intended to kill, raising my sister's daughter as our own, with a future I could never have imagined.

"Having second thoughts about marrying the Reaper?" Dante asked quietly, noting my contemplative expression.

I squeezed his hand, feeling the deadly wedding ring he'd given me. "On the contrary. I was just thinking that for two people with so much blood on their hands, we've managed to create something surprisingly... good."

He followed my gaze to Marina, now awake again and giggling as Gabriel twirled her around the dance floor. "She is something good," he agreed. "Though I suspect she'll be even more dangerous than both of us combined once she grows up."

"God help whoever crosses her," I said with genuine pity for Marina's future adversaries.

As we prepared to leave, I tossed my bouquet—not to the assembled single women, but directly to Dr. Chen, who caught it with a startled expression. The memory specialist had earned her place in our unusual family circle, and the gesture was my acknowledgment of that fact.

Dante led me to the waiting car, his hand protectively at the small of my back. "Ready to begin our official life together, Mrs. Moretti?"

"I've been ready since the day I decided not to kill you," I replied with a smile.

As we drove away from the reception, my bloodstained wedding dress carefully preserved as a memento in the trunk, I realized that our story—mine, Dante's, and Marina's—was far from a conventional fairy tale. It was something darker, more complex, and infinitely more interesting.

The Viper had married the Reaper, and together they would raise a child born of secrets and blood ties. What could possibly go wrong?