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Chapter 2: Mystery help

Author: Amy Graey
last update Last Updated: 2023-07-03 17:46:24

Maria

Thick smokes from the burning cars cloud my vision. I see figures of stiff bodies scattered all around in the chaos. Bodies of cops expected to protect me, drenched in their own blood.

I crawl in search of Elvis but the sole of a polished black shoe stops me. I lift my gaze, to the silhouette of a tall man towering above me.

The hem of his black leather coat grazes over the bridge of my nose as I try to make out the face.

“There she is,” the man says.

A sharp cry come from the corner in the darkness.

“Let him go!” I scream as I sight Elvis at the mercy of a group of men, beating him to pulp.

“My apologies. You must have been expecting my visit. I see you're all dressed for our wedding. Aren't you, little angel?” the man says, pulling me up and flicking the brown hair sticking to the sides of my sweaty face.

“Let go of me,” I cry, as he cuffs my neck with his thick arms, pulling me along.

“Don't you dare touch her!" Elvis rages from a corner, approaching us with a stick after managing to set himself free from the thugs behind him. 

But he's kicked back to the floor before he gets close to me.

“It's going to be a long night," the man announces, smacking me on the face. I find myself falling helplessly as though I am floating, until everything becomes dark and silent.

The air is hot. It feels like I’m in a steam bath. The whiff of my sweat fills my nostrils as I regain consciousness but, there's another lingering scent. 

Very familiar.

A secluded room in my father's house had that same horrific smell. A day that revealed my father's true identity. The smell of spontaneous decay.

With a throbbing head, I try to lift myself but I hear the clang of metals. Wide-eyed, I realize the chains clasped around my wrist, arms suspended above my head, anchored to a hook.

"Let me go!" I scream, terror engulfing me.

I catch the form of a man standing up from a chair in front of a fireplace, approaching me with a smirk.

“I made that mistake once, princess,” he replies, his voice poisonous.

He takes off his hat, leaning towards me as he puffs smoke from his pipe.

I choke from the smell, coughing profusely, sweat tingling from every pore on my skin.

“Perfect timing,” he adds, “You've been asleep for way too long. The priest is just by the door,” He resumes full posture and walks away. My eyes trail his features. And for the first time, I see his form clearly. The chiseled jawline, a dangerous stare and a smile that spells mischief.

“I'll forgive you for trying to run away from me. Repeat the same stupid act and it would be the end of you,” he says casually and takes a long drag from his pipe. 

There’s a knock on the door far ahead, opposite where I kneel.

 “Come on in.” He turns toward the dusty door on the extreme end.

The whole place makes my stomach churn with fear, enough to want to puke.

It’s like a warehouse abandoned for decades. A complete wreck, yet someone took time to make out a room in the midst of the wreck.

Thoughts of Elvis crosses my mind as a priest walks in, guided in by two able-bodied men, fully armed.

"Where's Elvis!”

“Who the hell is that. This shall be our priest for the hour,” he replies as though he didn’t understand me.

“Elvis is my husband. What did you do to him, you bloody murderer!" I scream suddenly.

"Easy on the emotions, princess. There’s only one husband. Me. And, It's our wedding night. You should be happy.” 

He turns briefly to me and back on the priest, “Shall we proceed?.”

It has to be a joke. What wedding?

He stands beside me as the priest is guided to our front by these heavily-built men.

The priest is spitting some words, clearly he’s scared too.

“This is crazy! Shut the hell up you…” I order the priest as he begins the vows.

"You listen to me girl. I make the orders here and you do exactly as I say," the man beside me warns, smacking me on the cheek. The pain forces me to be quiet as I notice the situation I’m in. It must be the same people that kidnapped me. The same group that killed my father. The horror dawns on me as I recognize the voice that scared me to death as a child.

"I've no patience for such a display. Proceed," he turns to the priest with a cold stare.

I struggle with the chains, my eyes soaked in tears as the priest continues chanting what seems like a ritual prayer.

“I, Luca Adolfo accept you, Maria Giovanni, as mine,” the bloody voice chants beside me. 

Lost and terrified, I watch in horror as he turns to me, "It's your turn. Take your vows, princess."

“Repeat after me,” the priest says in a tremble.

“Never! Such a coward you're, Luca. You had to wait for my father's death to claim me as your wife. You wouldn't dare lift a finger if he were alive,” I breathe angrily, tears mixed with hot beading sweats.

"On the contrary, my dear princess. I killed him," his reply splattered with pride, adjusting the collar of his blood-stained shirt.

Even though I knew all along, the manner he said those words send shivers down my spine. Not out of pity for my late father, but out of fear of what this beast might do to me too.

"…and I won't hesitate to kill you if you disrupt this ritual again."

“I'd rather die than be your wife, Luca,” I spit, my sudden courage surprising me. 

As much as I fear death, I fear Luca even more. I know the kind of man he is. A hungry beast who would stop at nothing to claim my father's empire, I’m simply a bonus to the package.

"I saw this coming. You leave me with no choice, Maria."

He walks away from me, approaching a table filled with weapons and a bag of daggers, arranged in different sizes.

"Bring him in," he orders.

Immediately, the door swings open and a man falls to the floor.

"Elvis!"

"That's right. This goes right into him. A painful death. Nothing less, I promise," Luca threatens, admiring the blades of the knife in his hand.

“Don't hurt him. Please let him go,” I plead.

"That depends on you, Princess. It would be a delight to have him as an audience, if you cooperate."

Tears flow down my eyes as Elvis life flash before my very eyes. I want to crawl to him and help him from his pain, dress his wounds, but all I can do is swing around the chains holding me down. His cloth is soaked in his blood as he wails in pain on the floor. The sight pricks me so bad that i yell,

"I'll do it. I'll take the vows!" 

My eyes are filled with pure hatred for Luca, as he chuckles.

"Please, Mariah. He doesn't deserve you," I hear Elvis’ broken whisper, torturing me even more. 

Luca makes another wild chuckle walking up to me and tapping my cheeks while I recite the vows, ignoring Elvis. It’s the least I can do to protect him.

“I accept you, L..uca…” my voice breaks as I speak. A vow that binds me to the beast, giving him right to everything in my name, everything my father owned, and everything that belongs to me, including my body. 

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