The Day Before The Wedding

Carrie's POV

The hall was a whirlwind of activity when I came down the staircase, my fingers tracing the railing as if grounding myself against the chaos below. Workers moved swiftly, dropping bunches of white roses and golden ribbons over every available surface. The air smelled of fresh flowers and polished wood, yet to me, it carried the weight of something much darker.

The wedding was tomorrow.

The thought wrapped around my chest like a vice, stealing the breath from my lungs. Ever since Victor had told me the date was moved up, the nightmares hadn’t stopped. Dark, shadowy figures haunted my dreams, their laughter echoing as I walked down the aisle toward an abyss, not a man.

As I reached the bottom step, my gaze was drawn to the garden outside. Through the massive glass windows, I saw him—The Reaper. He had just arrived yesterday, his presence unnerving as always. He stood in the garden, his posture relaxed yet predatory, like a wolf among sheep. Beside him was Victor, speaking animatedly as he handed over a briefcase.

My heart stopped.

It was the same briefcase I’d seen before, the one Victor had brought into the shop some days ago. I squinted, trying to make out the details as The Reaper opened it, his lips curling into a smile. A chill ran down my spine. Whatever was inside, it was important—dangerously so.

The two men left the garden and got into a sleek black car, driving off without a glance back.

I focused my eyes away, my thoughts a tangled mess, when my phone buzzed in my pocket. A new email.

The subject line read: Urgent – Eyes Only. It was from Mr. Grayson. My fingers trembled as I opened the message, an attachment staring back at me. Clicking on it revealed a blueprint—intricate lines and markings that made no immediate sense.

“What is this?” I muttered, zooming in.

My eyes caught on a stamp in the corner, and my breath hitched. It was a symbol—a crest, ornate and ominous. My mind raced, trying to place it. And then it hit me.

The briefcase. The same symbol had been embossed on its surface. I remembered now.

Panic bubbled up as I scrambled to search the internet, typing frantically into the search bar. “Mafia crest symbol.”

Dozens of results flooded the screen, each one painting a grim picture. The crest was a mark of power, a symbol uniting the three top Mafia empires in the state.

My stomach churned.

Victor. The Reaper. They were entangled in something far beyond what I’d imagined.

I didn’t have a choice—I had to know more.

I followed them.

****************

The city’s streets blurred as I trailed their car, my heart pounding in time with the engine’s hum. They led me to the outskirts of downtown, stopping at a dilapidated shed that seemed out of place amidst the urban setting. I stopped a distance away and slipped inside, my steps careful and silent.

The shed was empty, or so I thought. I could hear voices echoing from deeper within, I moved back as I heard the voices getting closer, until I found myself hiding behind a large metal barrel. “I'll hide here" I said to myself.

From behind the barrel, I saw them—The Reaper, Victor, their men, and another figure. The stranger was impeccably dressed, his suit tailored to perfection. Two bodyguards stood behind him, their guns gleaming under the dim light.

The man held the briefcase, speaking with a tone that oozed smugness. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

The Reaper said nothing, his expression unreadable as he turned to leave with Victor.

But then, the man opened the briefcase.

His smile vanished.

“It’s empty,” he growled, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension.

The room froze.

“But that doesn't make any sense" I mumbled.

In one swift motion, he pulled out a gun and fired.

Time slowed as everyone turned towards The Reaper, expecting him to be the target but no, the bullet hurtled toward Victor.

Before I could think, I moved on instinct. Grabbing a stray metal tray from the ground, I lunged in front of Victor, deflecting the shot. The sound echoed like a thunderclap, the bullet ricocheting harmlessly into the wall.

Silence fell, broken only by The Reaper’s laughter.

“Well, that’s one way to make an entrance,” he drawled, his tone drooping with amusement.

Victor stared at me, his face a mask of shock and something else—something I couldn’t place.

The man with the briefcase, however, was livid. “Where is it?” he demanded, his gun now aimed at The Reaper. “The flash drive. Where is it?”

My ears perked up. Flash drive?

The Reaper smirked, pulling out his own weapon. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about living here alive.”

The man signaled his guards to attack, their guns aimed and ready.

Victor’s men tensed, but The Reaper held up a hand, stopping them.

What was he planning?

Then, with unnerving precision, he fired a single shot.

We all watched as the bullet ricocheted off a beam, then a pipe, and finally struck both guards simultaneously. They collapsed, lifeless, before they could even pull the trigger.

“Wow" Everyone gasped. Even I was impressed.

“Show-off,” Victor muttered under his breath.

The air grew thick with tension.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” the man hissed, clutching the briefcase like a lifeline.

A single shot ended the conversation, the man crumpling to the ground.

With a dirty smirk planted on his face, The Reaper looked at his lifeless body and said, “I always win."

**************

The Reaper turned to me, his gaze sharp.

“I knew you’d show up,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “Right on time"

Victor, still reeling, snapped, “Who is he?”

The Reaper grinned, gesturing to me. “Your new bodyguard.”

“What?” Victor barked. “I don’t need some random—”

“Like the last one?” The Reaper cut him off, his words laced with implication.

Victor’s jaw tightened, and after a moment, he relented. “Fine. But this is on you.”

I blinked. “I thought I was your bodyguard.”

The Reaper chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Do I look like someone who needs protection?”

I thought back to the bullet, the way he handled it all with unnerving ease.

“Fair point,” I muttered.

Victor eyed me warily. “What’s your name?”

I didn’t answer, slipping away before he could press further. I made my way back to the mansion.

*************

Back in my room, exhaustion weighed heavy, but something on the bed caught my attention—a small box wrapped in crimson red paper.

A note was kept on top it, the handwriting elegant.

‘Have a great time at your wedding tomorrow, Camilla.’

My stomach dropped as I tore the paper away, revealing a diary inside.

“Camilla’s diary?”

“Only one person could have sent this.”

“Diego!” I whispered, clutching the book tightly.

Whatever his plan was, I needed to be ready.

Tomorrow is Camilla’s…I mean, my wedding.