Arranged Mafia Marriage

Elsa

“No,” I scream as Seb’s gaze widens. His entire body shudders. I glance past him to find what looks like a drone hovering just beyond the parapet of the decking we’re on. “No, no, no.” I try to hold him up, but he’s too heavy. He begins to slide down, and I manage to lower him to the rug on his side. I can just about hold his shoulder to stop him from being slumped completely.

There’s a surprised expression on his face as he takes in my features. “I think I’m hit,” he finally says in a calm voice.

“Seb.” Terror wells up. My stomach twists. I touch the back of his shoulder, and my fingers come away wet. At least it’s the shoulder of his unhurt arm. I manage to sit up and lean over to find blood oozing from a wound in his shoulder. It’s blotting the rug and spreading out. As I watch, more of the scarlet spills out. My head spins. My chest hurts. My pulse is beating so hard, I can hear the blood pumping in my ears.

“Seb, oh, my god, Seb,” I blubber as his eyelids flutter shut. His body twitches, then he slumps onto the rug. I hear voices yelling and footsteps running, and turn to find Antonio and the man who’d gotten into the car with him bursting onto the deck.

He glances at us, then at the drone that hovers beyond us. He pulls out his gun, and in response, lights flicker on the device. The drone makes that whirring noise again.

“No, no, no.” I throw myself over Seb as it fires. A man yells something-someone hits the floor. The sound of bullets fills the space. When it pauses, I hear the whirring sound again, a second before bullets pepper across the deck. I scream as I hold onto Seb, trying to cover him as best I can. There’s the sound of more footsteps, more yelling, and more shots being fired. Then, silence. Bam-bam-bam. My heart slams against my rib cage. I hold onto Seb as tears slide down my cheeks. I stay that way for a few more seconds.

When I glance up, the drone still hovers in the same place. I scan the patio, then cry out when I find all four of the men who comprised our security detail, including Antonio, sprawled out on the floor. Blood pools under one of the men. The rest of them are so silent, surely, they must be dead. Are they dead? Seb. Oh, my god, Seb. I touch his face, which already feels cool to the touch. And he’s pale, so pale. I hear the whirring sound, and once more, throw myself over him.

“No,” I yell at the drone. “No, I won’t let you kill him! You hear me? Not unless you kill me first, motherfucker!”

The drone hovers there silently, then swings away and out of sight.

“Seb! Jesus! Help me, God. Please, please, please don’t let him… Don’t let him die.” I sit back, tear off my jacket, bundle it, and press it against the wound. Help. I need help.

I glance around, spot my handbag, and leap toward it. I pull out my phone, but it’s dead. “Fuuuck!” I yell. Why, oh, why did I forget to charge it? I throw it aside, then turn back to Seb. I pat around in his jacket pockets. Don’t find anything. No, no, no. My stomach caves in on itself and bile bubbles up. I swallow it down, then reach for his pants pocket. There. My fingers brush the phone.

I pull it out, but it’s locked. Of course it’s locked. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I yell as I rise to my feet. My knees almost give way before I steady myself. I stumble over to Antonio, who’s collapsed on his front, check his jacket pockets, and find his phone. Locked. No, no, no, this can’t be happening. Please, please, God, don’t let anything happen to my Seb. Please let him survive this, and I’ll confess everything to him. Everything. I promise. I check the pockets of the next guy; no phone. And the next; his phone is locked, too. I approach the fourth guy, who’s body is twisted in such a way that I can’t help but think he must be dead. The blood pooling under him has spread out even more. I don’t have a choice. I step into his blood, then reach for his jacket pocket. Bingo. I pull out his phone. Please, please, please let this be unlocked. Please. I snap open the old-fashioned device… Is it a burner phone? It’s unlocked. Thank you, God! I reach for the keypad, and dial the only number I know from memory.

Two hours later, I pace the floor of the waiting room in the hospital in Palermo. I called the number of the flower shop, hoping and praying someone would pick up. The first time, the call went to voice mail. Damn it, I wished I’d memorized Theresa’s mobile number, or knew the number of one of the Sovrano brothers, but I didn’t. I tried the number of the shop again, and this time, Theresa picked up. I almost burst into tears as I explained what’d happened. To Theresa’s credit, she snapped to attention right away. She reassured me that I’d done the right thing by calling her instead of directly calling the ambulance or the police-which, to be honest, hadn’t even occurred to me. I may have only just married into a Mafia family, but being married to Fabio had instilled a healthy distrust for the cops, and common sense had told me that calling an ambulance service directly might not be wise, given the nature of the incident which had taken place. Apparently, even though I’d been dazed, some part of me had been thinking clearly.

She took the details of my location and made me stay on the line while she called Axel and told him what had transpired.

She came back on the call with me and told me someone would be with me very soon.

Within seconds, Aurora called her on her cell phone, and she put Aurora on speaker.

Aurora assured me she was already en route with Christian and some of the other Sovrano brothers in an air-ambulance. How they got hold of an air-ambulance so quickly, I have no idea. Maybe they have one on standby, given the nature of the business the brothers are in? Either way, Aurora walked me through some basic first-aid steps on how to keep the pressure on the wound to stem the flow of blood, while checking for his pulse-which had been sluggish. She then cut the call, with the promise they’d be there very soon.

Theresa stayed on the line with me, and fifteen minutes later, I heard the whoomp-whoomp-whoomp of an approaching chopper.

Within five minutes of that, Aurora and Christian burst onto the patio, along with two paramedics.

Aurora and the paramedics took over. I watched numbly as they placed the oxygen mask over Seb, cut through his jacket, and kept the pressure steady as they loaded him onto a stretcher.

Then I heard the sound of another chopper and realized one of them had the foresight to call for reinforcements.

Massimo and Luca arrived with four more paramedics. Together, they worked in what seemed to be a well-rehearsed operation of patching up and loading the other guys onto the second chopper.

Within fifteen minutes, we were all loaded up, and both choppers were on their way to the hospital.

Less than an hour after I called Theresa, Seb and the other men were in surgery. By some miracle, all four of the guys, while injured, were breathing. As for Seb, the doctor had yet to tell us the extent of his injury.

Theresa stayed with me. Thankfully, she’d hired a temporary employee to take my place while I was away.

Now, I watch as she talks to Axel in one corner of the room.

Massimo and Luca huddle together with Adrian and Christian in another corner.

Aurora went into the operating theatre to assist the doctors.

As for me? I can’t get rid of the sight of Seb’s face-the surprise in his eyes, followed by the realization that he’d been hit-before he lost consciousness.

I sink down into a seat from where I have a direct view of the door, and fold my fingers together. I don’t think I’ve prayed this much in a long time… Not since I went into labor with Avery, and then I’d been in too much pain to remember to pray after a while. No, this time I am in possession of all of my faculties. I can’t take my gaze off of the doorway.

Someone presses a cup of something hot into my hands. The scent of coffee reaches me, and my stomach churns. I shake my head, and Theresa sits down next to me. “Have a sip,” she urges me.

I take a sip, and my stomach protests. “No more.” I place the cup on the table next to me.

“Drink some water, at least.” She uncaps a bottle and hands it to me. I sip from it and my stomach, thankfully, doesn’t react to that. I take a few more sips, then hand it back to her.

“I got you some clothes.” She hands me a cloth bag.

“Clothes?”

“You need to change, Elsa.” She jerks her chin toward me. I glance down to find my blouse and skirt are stained with blood. His blood? My belly knots. Tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes, and I wipe the back of my hand across my face.

“Come on, Elsa.” She rises and draws me up to my feet. “I’ll help you.” She leads me through the waiting room to a door at the far end I hadn’t noticed. “Go on.” She pushes the door open, places the cloth bag next to the sink, and guides me inside. “I’ll be waiting outside. Call if you need anything.” The door shuts behind her.

I glance at my face in the mirror, notice the droplets of blood across my cheek, and burst out crying.

“Elsa, are you okay?” Theresa knocks on the door. “Do you need me to come in.”

“No,” I say through my sobs, “I’ll be fine.” I turn on the tap, scoop some water in my hands, and splash it on my face several times. I manage to choke down my sobs, turn off the tap, shrug out of my clothes, and slip into the dress she brought me. I stuff my clothes into the bag, and run my fingers through my hair trying to restore some semblance of order to the strands. With a last look at myself in the mirror, I head out.

“How are you feeling?” Theresa peers into my features.

“Not great.” I glance around, wondering what to do with the bag, when she holds out her hand.

“I’ll take care of that for you.”This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

I hand her the bag, and allow her to lead me back to a seat in the waiting room.

“He’ll be fine,” she reassures me as we sit down.

“What if the bullet does permanent damage to him?” I swallow, “I’ll never forgive myself if it did. And those men who were hurt. What if they die?” My entire body trembles. My hands and feet are so numb, I can barely feel them. “This is all my fault, Theresa. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not. You couldn’t have known that someone was going to shoot at you guys.”

“I knew he was in danger, and yet, I asked him to take me on the trip. I was the one who said I wanted to leave the house. He told me it was dangerous, but I still insisted.” A sob blocks my throat, and I swallow it down. “I knew this was going to happen. I knew it, and I didn’t stop it. This is all my fault.”

“What do you mean?”