The Bloody Bride (The Rocchetti Dynasty) Read online

  But there was something about him that stopped him from being beautiful without surrender. A feral glint in his eyes, a roughness to his jaw, a undomesticated curve in his smile. All your instincts warned you to leave him alone, the same way they might warn you of a dangerous animal.

  The first time I had ever spoken to him was when he passed me my engagement ring. I had said it was very beautiful and he replied that it was a family heirloom. I had been terrified of him then and I was just as terrified of him now.

  Alessandro Rocchetti didn’t smile at me as he leaned in to give me a soft kiss. Only kept his dark eyes trained on me, the same way a lion might watch a gazelle.

  Then the windows shattered.

  Chapter Two

  Alessandro tore back and shoved me to the side.

  I stumbled, clutching my skirts to keep from tripping over.

  All around us, beautiful rainbow glass rained down. The Mary Madonna and the angels and saints were sparkling like diamonds. The sight seemed magical for only a second until dark figures jumped from the glassless windows. They held huge guns and poised them at the crowd.

  Then they began firing.

  Screaming erupted, so piercing and horrifying. “The children!” People shrieked. “Get the children!”

  Made Men began reacting, pulling out guns and firing at the assailants. In front of me, Alessandro whipped out a gun and took aim at one of the attackers. One shot and the man hit the wall behind him, blood spurting everywhere.

  “Oh, God,” I tripped back. “Oh, God—“

  Alessandro whipped his head towards me and bared his teeth. “Get out of here now.”

  A man came up behind him.

  I pointed. “LOOK OUT!”

  Alessandro moved faster than my eye could register and took the man down with one shot. Another man took his place and Alessandro dealt with him too.

  I had a strange feeling I was watching a man do exactly what he was born to do.

  Alessandro killed with such precision and ease, yet with unhidden wildness and delight. It looked like one big game to him, moving to the side like a snake and then lunging where the assailant least expected it.

  A strong hand clasped my arm.

  I screamed.

  “Quiet, girl!”

  I turned and found Don Piero beside me. A big intimating man with a wrinkled face and ancient eyes, he was not someone you wanted to cross. He built the Rocchetti family from the ground and was one of the most feared Don’s ever to live.

  And now he was my grandfather-in-law.

  He tightened his grip. “Follow me. I’ll protect you.”

  I turned towards Alessandro. “Let him do what he is trained to do.”

  All around us screams and shots echoed. The doors to the church had been spread open, and from the street, I could hear loud honking and more shrieking.

  Don Piero began to drag me behind the statue of Virgin Mary. “Keep down!” He barked.

  I got to my knees and leant against the cool stone. The overpowering smell of incense and blood filled the air. I glanced at Don Piero. He was leaning around the stone, gun in palm. Blood soaked his white shirt.

  “Sir, you’re hurt.”

  He didn’t even look at the wound, just flickered his dark eyes to me. “That’s usually what happens when you get shot.”

  I swallowed loudly.

  His eyes flickered back, checking behind me for any attackers. “You need to get to the side of the church, do you hear me? From there you can take the back way out.”

  “Won’t they cover all the exits?” I asked.

  Don Piero snapped his eyes at me but was saved from having to reply by a large hand grabbing his shirt and yanking him up. Not one to be dragged around, Don Piero dug his heels into the ground and stood before the man.

  The man was dressed in all black, with a shotgun in hand. He had short brown hair and a crooked nose. He grinned at Don Piero, revealing bloody teeth.

  I suddenly felt very faint.

  “Piergiorgio.” Hissed the man.

  “Only my sainted mother calls me that.” Said the Don. “What business do you have that you have brought to my grandson’s wedding?”

  The man looked down at me, spotted my white dress and smiled. Then he looked back at Don Piero. His knuckles on the gun tightened. “The Gallagher’s say hello.”

  Quick as a whip, he pointed his gun at me and fired.

  I screamed but no noise came out.

  Something grabbed me and yanked me away. I was thrown into someone’s chest, stumbling over my skirts at the momentum. Metallic tasting blood from my saviour’s shirt got into my nostrils and mouth, making me yank back and almost fall.

  I looked up.

  Alessandro Rocchetti stared down at me. His black eyes were livid. “Take the Don and get the fuck out of here. Now.”

  I couldn’t even answer. I turned, desperate to see where the bullet had gone.

  The floor behind me was clear.

  With a slow sudden realisation, I looked down at my dress. Blood spilled over the fabric from my side, where a distinct rip and reveal of flesh had appeared.

  “I’ve been shot.” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.

  “It’s just a scrape.” Snapped Alessandro. He grabbed my arm and pushed me away. I could hear Don Piero and the man with the crooked nose yelling. “Take this!”

  I looked down at his hand. He was holding a small blade.

  I grabbed it without hesitation.

  “Go now.”

  I stumbled forward, clutching my side. Now that I had noticed the wound, all I could think about was the firing pain. I stumbled and hit the wall, gasping.

  God, it hurt so much.

  How had Don Piero been absolutely fine? I was scraped with a bullet and about to pass out.

  I clutched the walls and held myself up.

  My forehead pressed against the cool stone. All around me I could hear gunshots and yelling and screaming. The smell of incense and blood was everywhere. Pain riveted through my body. The blade in my hand dug into my palm.

  I lifted my head up, turned and ran.

  All along the side of the church was a separate hallway, connected to the main area through arches. I got to my knees and scurried through it, hiding myself behind the short walls, trying not to whimper as the sounds of people’s agony got louder.

  Broken glass dug into my knees, but it would’ve been a lot worse if I hadn’t been wearing this bloody dress.

  I made it to the edge of the hallway, where the alcove opened up. The door leading out to the church was not even two metres away.

  A lot of people had made it out but a few people were still trying to crawl through. All their beautiful clothes were ripped and stained with blood.

  I peered over the archway.

  At the alter, a showdown seemed to be going on. Alessandro stood with Don Piero, gun out and ready. Toto the Terrible and other Rocchetti’s were dealing with another group in the aisle. A few of the assailants were not part of either group and turned their attention towards the last stragglers.

  I turned. Not everyone was out yet.

  Oh God, was I about to watch these people be massacred?

  Before I could even realise what I was doing, I stood up and yelled, “Hey Gallagher boys, I’m over here!”

  Immediately they began advancing on me.

  “Come here, little bride.” Cooed one of them. His gun was pointed right at me.

  Oh, God.

  I ducked just as the bullets ricochet past me. I looked at the stone wall behind me, now covered in bullets.

  “Where did you go?” Asked an attacker in a sing-song voice.

  I didn’t know where to go. To leave I would have to risk the people outside the church’s lives, and to stay I would be risking my life.

  I began to crawl back to the way I came.

  Behind me, I heard the sound of a slap of boots hitting the floor. Then a hand grabbed the back of my dress and yanked
me up.

  I shrieked and twisted in my attacker’s grip.

  The Gallagher soldier pressed his gun to my temple and smiled manically. “Light’s out—“

  I swiped my hand across his throat.

  His eyes widened in surprise and then horror.

  Blood began spilling from his neck. It looked like a waterfall.

  The man’s grip on me dropped and he fell forward.

  I went down with his body, hitting the ground roughly. Little shards of glass got caught in my dress, digging into my skin. Wetness covered my neck and I could feel it soaking into my dress.

  It’s blood.

  Oh my God, I was soaking in someone else’s blood.

  With unknown strength, fuelled by disgust and desperation, I shoved the man off me and scrambled away. The dress train made it hard to get my footing but I managed to make it at least a metre.

  I could barely breathe.

  My heart was pounding so hard, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

  I had just killed a man.

  Shots echoed throughout the church and I pressed a hand to my mouth to keep from whimpering.

  A man jumped over the archway and landed in front of me. He looked at the body to my right and then turned his thunderous gaze towards me.

  “You bitch—“ He made a grab for me.

  I scrambled back, bringing up my blood knife. “Stay away from me!”

  The man paused for a moment, then fell to the ground. His eyes went blank and his mouth opened in shock.

  Before I could even react, a shadow loomed over me. “Ma’am?”

  I looked up. Oscuro was peering down at me. He was covered in blood and was holding two guns, one in each hand, and both still smoking.

  “Up you get, Mrs. Rocchetti. It’s time to go.”

  I stumbled to my feet, with Oscuro helping me. Over the archways I could see the groups had merged into one large mass. With Outfit members on the left and the assailants on the right. Don Piero looked like a king overlooking his subjects, hands in his pockets and blood dripping down his tux.

  Alessandro stood at his grandfather’s side, covered in red ichor and clutching his guns. He looked like something I would conjure up in a nightmare.

  “Mrs. Rocchetti, you should really leave now—“

  All of a sudden, Alessandro rose his arms and took out two of the assailants. His family took down the others.

  The bodies slumped to the ground in sync, guns clattering against the marble floors.

  It looked like an execution.

  For a moment, there was silence. Winter sunlight poured through the glassless windows, illuminating the bodies and blood and glass that littered the marble. Statues of our saints caught the light and shined, some of them cracked and bloody.

  I looked down at the shattered glass.

  In the reflection, I could make out my broken image. My veil was torn and hanging awkwardly, my hair unravelled and fall limply around my shoulders. And my dress…Blood covered my white corset and skirt, spreading out like a stain.

  I was a bloody bride.

  The sound of police sirens erupted from outside.

  Dr. Ettore Li Fonti was the brother of a Made Man and the favoured doctor amongst the Outfit. He had soft hands and a kind voice. When he disinfected my wound and I hissed from the stinging sensation, he rubbed my arm and told me a funny story.

  We sat on the wooden pews in the church. Around me, injured men and women were being treated. The uninjured had been taken home—all the children included—except for the Made Men who walked around with guns and furious expressions.

  Dr. Li Fonti told me we had been lucky with the injuries. None of them were particularly serious, for the Rocchetti’s and I had been the targets. But a few innocent guests had been caught in the crossfire and there had been three casualties.

  The Rocchetti’s commanded the church. Don Piero had gone outside to speak to the police and they had yet to make a move of arrest, not like they would. His other family members were either protecting him or cleaning up the bodies. Some had even chosen to stalk around the church, scanning every corner and crevice for any stowaways. No one questioned the Rocchetti’s and we all followed their lead.

  Papa was stuck to my side, gun in hand. Whenever he looked at me, pain flashed in his eyes.

  “Who are the Gallagher’s?” I asked softly.

  Dr. Li Fonti pretended not to listen.

  Papa sighed. “They are an Irish gang that have been giving us a bit of trouble lately. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

  I begged to differ but kept my mouth shut. I was too tired to try and navigate a polite response.

  The doors to the church banged open and in strode my husband. Alessandro scanned the area before his dark eyes landed on me. Blood covered his tux and his hair was a scruffy mess. But his step did not falter and he did not look as nauseous as I felt.

  When he reached me, he shoved his gun into his suit jacket.

  “Is she patched up?” Alessandro asked Dr. Li Fonti. “I am.” I answered.

  Dr. Li Fonti quickly packed up his supplies and moved onto the next injured person. He muttered something about me needing some paracetamol.

  Alessandro cut his eyes to Papa. Then flickered his dark eyes to me. “Are you okay to walk by yourself?” “I’m fine.” I murmured. I doubted he wanted to hear about the pain I was in. My stress. My bloody hands.

  “We’re leaving now.” He told me.

  Alessandro was not a man use to being denied, so I only nodded in agreement and hoisted myself to my feet.

  Papa rose with me, placing a gentle hand on my back. “Let me help Sophia to the car.” “If she says she can walk by herself, then she can.” Alessandro responded, his tone curt.

  Instead of saying goodbye, my father just squeezed my arm lightly and implored me with his eyes to remember to heed his warning.

  People shuffled out of my way as I left the pew, despite my insistence they rest. Before I walked out the doors, Alessandro grabbed my upper arm. His grip was rough.

  I glanced up at him, feeling my stomach tightened.

  I had the sudden thought about my wedding night. Beatrice and my aunts had painfully explained what was going to happen, not that I was totally clueless. Going to a Catholic school had meant sex was forbidden knowledge and for that reason alone everyone had been obsessed with learning about it.

  During the ceremony and then the fight, I had been too preoccupied with thoughts of fear and pain to even think this far ahead into the future.

  Alessandro leaned down to my ear and I tried not to tense.

  “Keep your head up.” He murmured. “You are a Rocchetti now and Rocchetti’s do not show weakness.”

  I nodded once.

  As we walked out, I turned and met Papa’s eyes. He watched me with a strange look on his face, like he wasn’t really seeing me.

  I quickly turned forward again.

  The cold winter air hit me as we made our way outside. But my thoughts quickly were directed to the police cars and huddled guests. The cops stood with Don Piero, but they turned their heads to me as Alessandro led me down the stairs. Each cop watched me curiously, but none dared to approach me for a statement.

  I held my chin up, letting my husband lead me down to the street.

  A black Range Rover was waiting by the side walk, parked illegally on the pavement. Alessandro opened the door and stepped back to let me crawl in. Manoeuvring around the blood-soaked skirts was hard but I eventually gave up all attempts at comfort and laid my head onto the back of the seat.

  Alessandro slammed the door behind him. “Drive.” He barked.

  The driver, a man I didn’t recognise, roared the car to life and zipped off the street. In the passenger seat, Oscuro sat, shotgun in lap.

  I closed my eyes briefly.

  Adrenaline was beginning to run from my body, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Beside me, Alessandro was barking orders on his phone. I picked up a few names
but my brain was having trouble grasping onto reality and the world around me. Before I knew it, we were pulling into a dark underground garage.

  The car was parked near the back, in between a black Lamborghini and a second huge Range Rover. It didn’t take a genius to figure out this was Alessandro’s private collection of cars.

  “Here is your knife.” I held out the blade.

  Alessandro didn’t look at it. “Keep it.”

  As soon as the car stopped, they were all out and I hurried to keep up. My bloody skirts squished in my grip.

  We took a private elevator up to the penthouse. The elevator was silent, despite the thick smell of blood and sweat radiating from both my husband and I. Alessandro was scowling down at his phone, whereas Oscuro and the unnamed man stood silent and watchful.

  I tried to smile at the man I didn’t know. “I’m Sophia. And you are?” “Beppe Rocchetti, ma’am.”

  I knew his name. Beppe was the son of Carlos Jnr. Rocchetti and his mistress. He had grown up with the Rocchetti name and their dark eyes but he was not allowed to have an official position in the family. He looked like the rest of his family, but his hair was shades lighter and braided behind his head. Like Oscuro, he was a well-built man, with hands that could snap my neck and muscles that were bigger than my thighs. A muscle man, then.

  I smiled in greeting.

  The elevator dinged and Alessandro was the first to step out.

  I followed, gasping in quiet wonder as I took in the space.

  The residence was beautiful. A penthouse that overlooked Chicago, with a beautiful view of the river. Large glass windows stretched along the back and the ceilings were high. When you first entered, you were in the modern grey and leather brown living room, with the kitchen and dining table off to the left. There was a door beside the kitchen—must be study, I reasoned.

  On the right, there was stairs leading up. But the second story was built in such a way that it had a balcony opening up to the downstairs area, creating a sense of one huge open space.

  Despite its beauty, the penthouse was cold. It was decorated to unfeeling perfection, not a single touch of personality to be found in the corners. Everything was hard lines and sharp edges. Even the books on the shelves and coffee table seemed to be there for decoration, not for enjoyment. No art adorned the walls, no empty bowls left by the sink.