Page 13 of The Wrong Mafia Bride
I stiffen. “You don’t even know him.”
“That doesn’t matter,” she snaps, stepping closer again, her hands fisting in the fabric of her dress. “I know who I love. I know who I wake up thinking about and who I run to when everything feels unbearable. I am in love with Dolan.”
Hearing his name out loud feels like a punch to the ribs. My chest tightens, breath catching painfully as the truth finally lands in full, undeniable shape. This is not a crush or a mistake or a moment of weakness. This is a choice she has already made, one she has been living inside for months while I stood guard outside the door.
“Erin,” I say carefully, my voice low and controlled because if I raise it, something inside me will fracture. “You understand what that means. You understand what Father will do if he finds out.”
“I know,” she whispers. “That’s why I need to leave. Tonight, or tomorrow, before it’s too late.”
“No,” I say immediately, shaking my head. “Absolutely not. Running away will get you hunted. You don’t disappear from this family. You don’t disappear from this city.”
She swallows, eyes glossy but resolute. “Not if I have time. Not if I have help.”
The way she looks at me then makes my stomach sink.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
She takes a breath, steadying herself, and meets my eyes. “I need you to buy me time.”
I let out a sharp laugh, more disbelief than humor. “You want me to distract Father while you run?”
“No,” she says quickly. “I want you to take my place.”
The room seems to tilt.
“What?” I ask flatly.
She steps closer, lowering her voice even though we are alone. “We switch. Just long enough to get through the beginning. Veils, dresses, the aisle. No one questions you because you’re always with me. You walk to the front, and by the time anyone realizes something is wrong, I’ll already be gone with Dolan.”
“That’s insane,” I say, my pulse roaring in my ears. “That will get us both killed.”
“It won’t,” she insists, gripping my hands now, desperate. “It will work. Father won’t be watching the aisle, he’ll be watchingDante. Everyone will be watching the ceremony. You know how this house works better than anyone.”
I pull my hands free, pacing a tight circle through the sitting room, my thoughts racing. Every instinct I have screams against this. This is reckless. This is dangerous. This is not protection, it is participation in treason.
And yet.
I stop and look at her, really look at her, at the woman she has become and the terror shining through her bravery. She is not asking for adventure. She is asking to live.
“If this goes wrong,” I say quietly, “there is no fixing it. Father will never forgive you. He may never forgive me.”
“I know,” she whispers. “But if I stay, I will lose myself. And I can’t survive that, Rosie. I just can’t.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.
I think of all the years I promised her safety. I think of every time I stood between her and something sharp. I think of how love, real love, is the only thing Father ever truly respected, even when it destroyed him.
I close my eyes once, long and slow, then open them again.
“Not tonight,” I say finally. “If we do this, we do it tomorrow, at the start of the ceremony. No running blindly into the dark.”
Her breath shudders. “You’ll help me?”
“I will help you escape,” I say, the words tasting like blood and vows and inevitability. “But once you walk away, there is no coming back.”
Tears spill down her cheeks as she throws her arms around me, clinging like she did when we were girls. “Thank you,” she sobs. “I knew you would.”
I hold her tightly, my arms firm and unyielding, already bracing for the consequences.
