THE COMMOTION

Martina's POV

The Reverend Father started the proceedings, his voice firm as he went through the ritual words. "Do you, Serafina Moretti, take—"

Before he could utter the words, I took another step forward-my voice slicing through the sacred air. "That is not my name, Father." I reached up, pulling the veil from my face and revealing myself to them all. The gasp that erupted from the sea of people around me was almost deafening. I turned to Silvio; his eyes widened in surprise. But then, slowly, a smile crept across his face.

Meanwhile, Serafina cowered in hiding, peering through a crack in the door with wide eyes at the chaos.

"What in the name of all that is sane is going on here?" boomed my father's voice, his face red with anger. He strode to the altar, his finger, quivering with rage, pointed at me. "What have you done, Martina? Where is your sister? Where is Serafina?"

Now my stepmother joined the chorus, shrill and accusing. "Martina, answer us! Where is Serafina?"

I turned to Silvio, my voice steady against the storm that raged around me. "You better marry me, Silvio, or you don't marry at all."

His eyes were fixed on mine; his face a mask of surprise, yet something more-to-something shaded. He couldn't find the words.

"No!" My father thundered, now angry at Silvio. "I only agreed to marry Serafina off,  my younger daughter, not Martina!"

He strode over to Nicolas, tugging at his arm. "Nicolas, fix this," he said, hot with anger.

Nicolas met my father’s glare with a cold stare of his own. Silvio finally cut the silence,"You’re addressing the wrong person Don Moretti,  his voice slicing across the tense silence like a blade. "Don Moretti," he addressed my father with a cool, commanding tone. "Have you forgotten who is the head of the Argento family now? After my father's passing, it's me-not my uncle-and I am to choose who I will marry."

He stopped, his intense gaze turning to me then back to my father. "I'll marry Martina Moretti, or I will marry no one at all."

The words hung heavy in the air, sending shockwaves of silence among the people. My father's face contorted with incredulity and anger, yet he seemed to struggle with the weight of Silvio's declaration.

I seized the moment, turning to Silvio with a small, victorious smile. "Then it's settled," I said firmly.

Silvio's piercing eyes softened as they met mine, his lips curving into a smirk. He gestured towards the Reverend Father, his voice taut with impatience and anticipation. "Father, begin the ceremony. I am dying to kiss my new bride."

The Reverend Father, though clearly rattled by the sudden turn of events, nodded slowly and prepared to continue.

One Night Early

Martina's POV

The previous night Serafina and I were in our bedroom, the atmosphere heavy with tension. The only thing that could be heard was the soft sobbing of Serafina. She sat on the bed, my hands in her shaking palms, snow-white, contorted in fear.

"Please, Martina," Serafina whispered, her voice cracking. "I cannot marry Silvio Argento. He will kill me, just like he's done to every woman who's ever been with him."

Her tears fell freely, and she tightened her grip on my hands, as if holding onto me was the only thing keeping her together. "I’m useless to Papa because I’m ugly," she choked out. "That’s why he wants me to marry Silvio—to send me off to die. Papa has already made up his mind, Martina. He’s sending me off to the butcher."

She shuddered, the weight of her fear weighing her down. "Papa knows Silvio kills every woman he's ever been with."

I knelt beside her, my heart breaking at the sight of her so terrified. I cupped her face, forcing her to look into my eyes. "I'm not going to let that happen to you," I promised, firm and resolute.

Serafina's eyes searched mine, her expression at once hopeful and desperate. "How, Martina? One of us has to marry him," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I took a deep breath, calming my voice as I peered into Serafina's tear-filled eyes. "You have always protected me, Serafina," I said softly, pushing a strand of hair off her face. "Now, it's my turn to protect you."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and confusion mixed with fear swirled in her gaze. "What do you mean?" she whispered, shaking.

"I will marry Silvio in your place," I said, my voice firm. "You won't have to face him, Serafina. I'll do it for you."

"No, Martina," she returned, her head shaking wildly. "You can't! He'll kill you like the others. I won't let you!"

I squeezed her hands tightly, my resolve hardening with every word. "I'll do anything to protect you, Serafina. Even if it's the last thing I do."

The wedding rolled along in an unsettling silence-undercurrents swirling with tension in circles around us. Reverend Father went through the vows with us, and then before I had realized, Silvio and I were pronounced husband and wife. His lips clung to mine, cold in their pressure, in a claiming and warning touch. There were muffled applause and whispers of disbelief and intrigue from the guests.

When the ceremony finally came to an end, Silvio escorted me to a waiting car, sleek and black, matching the ominousness of the day. The drive to the Argento family estate was silent; the weight of unspoken words pressed down. The mansion loomed ahead, a fortress of wealth and power that sent a chill down my spine.

Silvio didn't say anything, his hand firm around mine as he led me inside the great halls. The house was a labyrinth of dark wood and cold stone, and I knew every corner hid a secret I wasn't sure I wanted to discover. The personnel avoided my eyes, their expressions unreadable while they bowed.

We finally reached the bedroom-our bedroom. Silvio pushed open the heavy doors to reveal a space both luxurious and suffocating. The large bed dominated the room, draped in dark silks that mirrored the rest of the house's decoration. I stood still, taking in the room as Silvio turned to face me.

"I have matters to attend to," he said, his tone clipped. "Make yourself comfortable."

He turned wordlessly and was gone out the door, which shut softly behind him. I let my breath ease out slowly, my nerves stretched taut. I needed time to collect myself, to marshal my resources for what lay ahead. The weight of what I had done felt heavy upon my shoulders, and yet there could be no going back.

I walked over to the wardrobe and drew out a plain robe to slip on in place of the heavy wedding dress. I started to move deliberately out of my gown, and the material puddled onto the floor. It had felt claustrophobic; it felt real.

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower as the sound of rushing water filled the space. Under the stream, the heat wrapped around me.

I finished my shower, the hot water doing little to soothe the storm inside me. Stepping out, I wrapped myself in a towel as I caught my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were hard, determined. Now was no room for fear—only action.

I walked back into the bedroom, the cool air of the room making the hairs on my arms rise as I approached the wardrobe. I pulled out a delicate nightdress, silky and see-through, designed for seduction. Tonight, it was for another purpose altogether. I carefully placed a small dagger within the folds of the fabric, the blade resting gently against my thigh. Another slim knife settled along the strap, not obvious but within easy reach.

I sat on the bed, readjusting the cloth to wrap the weapons firmly but not so conspicuous. My heart bobbled with the thoughtfulness of the danger that was involved. Silvio Argento was dangerous, and my chances were slim if I did not take the first step.

I steeled myself, taking a deep breath. If Silvio was going to kill me like all the others, he was going to find himself in for a fight he didn't bargain for. I would not be joining the list of his victims tonight. Tonight, I would strike first.