Chapter 4 - The Standoff at the Altar
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Back inside the cathedral, the silence was suffocating.
Leo Barnes, Arthur’s chief of security, stood perfectly still near the altar. His hand rested casually inside his suit jacket, his fingers curled around the grip of a suppressed 9mm pistol.
Malcolm Croft, the patriarch of the rival family and the father of the bride, stepped forward. His face was a mask of aristocratic fury.
“This is an outrage,” Malcolm spat, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “Arthur has humiliated my daughter. He abandons his wedding for a pregnant whore? We are leaving.”
Malcolm reached out to grab Vivien’s arm, but Leo stepped into his path, an immovable wall of tailored muscle.
“Nobody leaves,” Leo stated, his voice a low, lethal rumble.
“Excuse me?” Malcolm demanded, signaling his own guards to step forward.
“The boss said to forget the wedding,” Leo replied smoothly. “But he also said not to touch the cup.”
Leo nodded toward the silver ceremonial chalice resting on the velvet-draped altar table. The wine that Arthur and Vivien were supposed to drink to seal their vows. The wine Chloe had claimed was poisoned.
“Are you accusing me of treachery on my daughter’s wedding day?” Malcolm roared, though a bead of sweat forming on his brow betrayed him.
“I’m not accusing you of anything, Malcolm,” Leo said. He pulled a small, sterilized vial and a syringe from his inner pocket—standard equipment for a mob security chief. “But if the wine is clean, you won't mind taking a drink to prove it.”
Vivien Croft stared at the cup, her face draining of all color. She looked at her father.
May you like
“Dad?” she whispered.
Malcolm’s jaw tightened. He looked at the dozen Romano guards who had already blocked the cathedral exits. The trap had failed, and the predator was now the prey.
