I craned my neck back to find my uncle but instead found my sister, hiding in the shadows, bitterness cloaking her features.

3. A bloody nightmare

Chapter 3

A bloody nightmare

Vittoria

I was having trouble keeping up with the long strides of his legs, stumbling a few times as my husband dragged me back into the room I had gotten ready in, slamming the door shut behind us.

A heavy thrum of tension surrounded us. He let go of me and I backed away, slowly, until my bottom hit the wall. And there I stayed.

Ettore made his way over to the floor length mirror and grimaced as he carefully removed his jacket. The white shirt was soaked red on one side. When he began to undo the buttons, he spoke. “Don’t worry, wife. It’s only a flesh wound.” His deadly hazel eyes met mine in the reflection of the mirror. “I will recover.”

A promise that very much sounded like a threat.

My chest panged, I shrunk in on myself and dipped my chin, hiding from his accusing stare.

The door opened and three men silently filed in, one after the other. I recognized them as the best man and groomsmen. One of them held what I assumed was a large metal toolbox, but when he set it down on the floor, knelt by it and threw it open, I saw it was actually medical supplies.

“Sit down,” groomsman one told Ettore, and he did. The man examined Ettore and muttered, “It’s just a flesh wound.” Then he turned to me, lifted his brows and asked incredulously, “How’d you miss? You were a foot away from the guy.”

“Tino.” Ettore growled the warning.

And Tino just shrugged. “What? I’m just asking.”

Groomsman two smiled, then chuckled and then he was laughing out loud, doubling over and clutching his gut.

Ettore was not impressed and asked the man, “Something funny about this, Sandro?”

Sandro, obviously not knowing what was good for him, simply nodded and kept laughing. He looked between us, chuckling, “Now that’s a wedding.”

Ettore glared at the man. I chanced a glance up at the third man in the room only to find his blank stare on me, but fire danced in his eyes. Shivers trailed the length of my spine and my stomach ached painfully.

Tino called him over. “Daniele, come hold this closed.”

The best man moved, surveilling me the entire way over, and when he reached my husband, he paused in front of him and asked, “You need something to bite on?”

Ettore clicked his tongue and shook his head in annoyance. “Just do it already.”

My curiosity had me observing from the opposite side of the room.

Sandro took some gauze and coated it with iodine. “This is gonna sting like a bitch.”

“It already stings like a bitch. Do it,” Ettore ordered, his jaw clenched.