Chapter 4 - The Aftermath in the Nave
The guests slowly began to emerge from their hiding places.
City councilmen nervously brushed dust off their expensive wool lapels, clearing their throats and pretending they hadn't spent the last ten minutes cowering behind marble pillars like frightened schoolboys. The woman in the third pew cautiously popped her head up, frantically straightening her pastel hat before smoothing down her skirt.
In the center aisle, Daniel Cross remained on his knees, his head bowed low, staring at the polished stone where Vincent’s discarded pistol had rested. He hadn't tried to run. He knew there was nowhere left in the world to hide from the man he had betrayed.
Vincent looked down at him, his expression unreadable.
“Daniel,” Vincent said quietly.
Daniel didn't look up. “Do it, Boss. I threw away fourteen years for a pipe dream. I’m ready.”
Vincent walked over, his heavy footsteps echoing in the vast, empty space. He stood directly above his former right-hand man for a long, heavy beat of silence.
“ Fourteen years is a long time to build loyalty,” Vincent said, his voice level and devoid of anger, which somehow made it infinitely more terrifying. “It’s also a very long time to forget what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you.”
Daniel closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.
Instead, Vincent reached down, grabbed Daniel firmly by the collar of his tailored vest, and hauled him effortlessly to his feet with raw physical strength.
“You’re alive, Daniel,” Vincent said coldly, staring straight into his former friend's terrified eyes. “That is the only gift you’re getting today. You are stripped of your rank, your accounts, your properties, and your connection to this family. By midnight, you will be on a bus heading south of the border with fifty dollars in your pocket and the clothes on your back. If you ever set foot in Chicago again, I won't use a gun. Do you understand me?”
Daniel swallowed a dry lump in his throat, tears finally spilling over his eyelids. He nodded frantically, his voice trembling. “I understand, Boss. Thank you.”
“Get out,” Vincent commanded.
Daniel didn't need to be told twice. He turned and practically fled down the aisle, slipping out the side exit before anyone else could blink.
Vincent watched him go, then took a slow, deep breath, letting the tension drain completely out of his muscular frame. He turned back toward the altar, where Emily was standing patiently, using a small silk handkerchief to dab away a speck of soot that had settled on her white lace sleeve.
The surviving guests watched them with a mixture of awe, terror, and profound reverence. No one dared to speak, let alone leave. They were waiting to see what the king and queen of Chicago would do next.
Vincent walked back up the steps, stopping right in front of his bride. He looked at her—really looked at her—taking in the fierce intelligence burning in her eyes, the unwavering courage that had saved his life when his own past tried to swallow him whole.
“Are you alright?” Vincent asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle, stripped of all the cold armor he wore for the rest of the world.
Emily lowered her handkerchief and smiled, a bright, radiant smile that completely transformed the grim, blood-stained cathedral into a sanctuary of warmth.
“I told you, Vincent,” she whispered, reaching out to adjust his lapel with meticulous care. “I’ve got you.”
Vincent exhaled a soft laugh, a sound that hadn't escaped his lips in years. He took her hand, pressing his lips against her knuckles right over the platinum band that had almost never made it onto her finger.
May you like
Then, he turned his head to look out across the stunned congregation of politicians, crime bosses, and elite socialites who were staring at them in stunned silence.
“The ceremony,” Vincent announced, his voice carrying effortlessly across the vaulted nave, “will now continue.”
