Chapter 3 Blood and vows

Wesley's POV

The wooden door closed gently behind me, enclosing me in my father's office. The aroma of aged leather and cigar smoke filled his office. A fire popped in the fireplace, its light creating dancing shadows on the walls.

My father was backed against me, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed at a large oil painting showing our family-a heritage of strength, aggression, and dominance. His presence filled the room, heavy and overwhelming.

I stepped forward and bowed my head slightly in respect. "Father."

His voice came slow, measured. "Did you take care of everything?"

"Almost."

The word made him turn.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, twin voids that seemed to pull me in, stripping away any pretense or hesitation. My father had a way of looking at people, of seeing through them as if they were nothing more than pieces on a chessboard.

"Almost?" he repeated, his tone carrying the weight of expectation.

I held his gaze. "The thief's dead. But his accomplice, Carlos Mendes is still alive. My men have found his whereabouts. I'll eliminate him tomorrow."

Silence stretched between us, tension winding tight. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Good," he murmured. His expression softened just a fraction, a rare sign of approval. "You continue to prove yourself, Wesley."

He stopped. Then, with deliberate slowness, he walked to the edge of his massive desk, resting his hand on its surface. "If you keep this up, if you keep showing me you have what it takes, you will lead the Redstar gang when I step down."

Not Michael.

The words were left unsaid, but we both understood what he meant.

My elder brother was reckless, selfish, and unworthy of the throne he thought he was entitled to. And our father, despite years of stubborn loyalty to tradition, was finally seeing that.

I gave a small nod. "I won't disappoint you."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, barely there, gone in an instant. "See that you don't."

He dismissed me with a motion of his hand.

I turned around and left, shutting the door behind me.

Once the door shut, I sighed with relief, releasing the tension in my chest and shoulders.

If my father was serious, if he truly intended to choose me over Michael...then the gang would be mine.

And I would rule it as it was meant to be ruled. With precision. With control. With fear.

A buzzing sound came from my pocket. I pulled out my phone and answered without checking the caller ID.

"Talk."

Lazaro's voice came through the speaker. "Boss, we got an update on Carlos Mendes."

I frowned. "What is it?"

Lazaro let out a low chuckle. "He's getting married tomorrow."

I processed that for a moment. Then, a dark smile tugged at my lips.

"Romantic," I mused.

Lazaro snorted. "You want us to hit him at the wedding?"

I leaned against the wall, pondering the thought. A wedding was meant to symbolize a fresh start, a day for joy and happiness. And yet for Carlos Mendes, it would be his last day.

My smirk widened. "Let the bastard have his vows," I said. "Then we'll make his bride a widow."

I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket.

Tomorrow, Carlos Mendes would say, I do.

And then, he would die.

Maria's POV

The wedding hall was lively with laughter and music.

Golden chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, their gentle light providing warmth to the crowd of guests. Walls were adorned with white and gold drapery, while the aroma of fresh roses filled the atmosphere.

Today was Wanda's wedding day and even though the heaviness on my chest was strong, I forced myself to smile.

I hurried down the hallway, opening the door to a tiny room where Wanda was in front of a mirror, fixing the lace sleeves of her dress. She appeared lovely, glowing, in fact. Her deep curls surrounded her face, and the intricate beading on her dress sparkled with each movement.

She turned as I entered, her expression easing with relief. "Maria."

I walked toward her, reaching for a small compact of blush and a brush. "You look perfect," I said, dabbing a soft pink hue onto her cheeks.

She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm shaking."

I met her eyes through the mirror. "You love him?"

"Yes," she whispered, no hesitation in her voice.

"Then you have nothing to fear."

She exhaled slowly, nodding.

I heard a knock at the door. Our father stepped inside, dressed in a sharp navy suit. His face revealed nothing, but his eyes became gentle when he glanced at Wanda.

"It's time," he stated.

Wanda's grip on my hand tightened momentarily before she released it.

As we entered the main hall, silence descended on the audience when the ceremony commenced.

The priest expressed his thoughts in a composed, adept way, his voice echoing across the big hall. Wanda and her fiancé stood at the altar, hands intertwined, gazes locked on one another.

I watched, my hands folded before me, my heart hurting from a feeling I couldn't identify.

After Wanda and her fiance said their vows, they kissed. The crowd stood up clapping for the newly wedded couple, I turned to my dad who had a happy smile on his face.

Then–The doors burst open.

The crash echoed through the hall, making the crowd halt their clapping, gasps rippled through the guests as a group of men strode inside, their movements slow and confident.

They were dressed in dark suits, guns in their hands.

My breath stopped for a minute. The air turned thick, heavy with fear. One individual, a man with defined features and a wicked grin, advanced, his eyes scanning the hall before focusing on the groom.

A gradual, nearly entertained grin spread on his lips.

"Carlos Mendes," he called out. "Did you really think we wouldn't find you?"

The groom stiffened, his fingers going white around Wanda's hand.

"Who are you?" the priest stammered, his voice shaking.

The man ignored him, lifting his gun and aiming it at Carlos' chest.

A moment of silence, then...Bang.

The shot pierced the air.

Carlos dropped to his knees, a crimson stain expanding on his shirt. He coughed out blood, his breaths coming in damp, struggling gulps.

Wanda screamed.

She dropped beside him, hands pressing uselessly against the wound, her wedding dress pooling in blood.

The man tilted his head, watching Carlos with something like mild curiosity.

"Should've run farther," he mused.

Carlos' body gave one final shudder-then stilled.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

The man turned his gaze toward Wanda, his smirk widening. "My condolences, Mrs. Mendes."

Tears flowed from her eyes, her body shaking with sorrow and anger.

I remained motionless, my nails penetrating my palms.

The man glanced at his watch. "We'll take our leave now. Enjoy the rest of your wedding."