Velvet & Vendetta

The first bullet shattered the champagne flute in my hand, spraying icy droplets and shards of crystal across the pristine white tablecloth. It wasn't the clinking of glasses, nor the murmur of polite conversation, that filled the opulent ballroom anymore, but the scream that tore from my throat.

I, Seraphina Rossi, was about to become a widow before I even reached my wedding night.

The opulent ballroom, usually a haven of whispered secrets and clinking champagne flutes, transformed into a chaotic battleground in a matter of seconds. Black-suited figures emerged from the shadows, weapons glinting under the crystal chandeliers, their faces obscured by masks. My father's security detail, usually an impenetrable wall, scrambled to return fire, but they were clearly outmatched.

This wasn't some random act of violence. This was a declaration of war. A blatant challenge to the Rossi family, one of the most powerful Mafia families in Chicago.

My gaze frantically searched for Alessandro, my husband-to-be, the man I'd been promised to since childhood. He was nowhere to be seen. Panic clawed at my throat, a cold, suffocating grip. I had to find him.

“Seraphina, get down!” My cousin, Marco, shouted, shoving me behind a massive marble pillar. The pillar offered minimal protection from the hail of bullets ricocheting off the walls, but it was better than nothing.

Marco, with his dark eyes and perpetually furrowed brow, was my rock, my confidant. He was also fiercely loyal to our family, a trait that often placed him in the thick of danger. "Where's Alessandro?" I yelled over the din, my voice trembling.

"I don't know, but we need to get you out of here," he replied, his expression grim. "This was meant for you, Sera. They want you."

Those words struck me like a physical blow. Me? Why would anyone want to harm me? I was just a pawn in this dangerous game, a bargaining chip in the power struggles of the Chicago underworld.

Marco dragged me through the chaos, weaving through fallen bodies and overturned tables. The scent of gunpowder and blood filled my nostrils, a nauseating reminder of the brutal reality of our lives. We reached a side exit, usually reserved for catering staff, but now our only escape route.

As we burst out into the cool night air, the deafening roar of a car engine filled my ears. A black SUV screeched to a halt in front of us, its tinted windows obscuring the occupants. Marco shoved me towards the vehicle. "Get in! I'll cover you!"

I hesitated. Where was he sending me? Who was in that car? But I knew I had no choice. Trusting Marco was the only option I had left. I scrambled inside, the leather seats cold against my skin. The doors slammed shut, and the SUV roared into the night, leaving Marco standing alone in the crossfire.

I peered through the tinted windows, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of my cousin, but he was quickly swallowed by the shadows. The car sped through the streets of Chicago, a blur of neon lights and towering skyscrapers. My mind raced, trying to make sense of the senseless violence, the betrayal, the sheer terror of the evening.

The driver, a hulking figure with a shaved head and a steely gaze, didn't speak. He simply drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity. I was alone, vulnerable, and utterly terrified. I didn’t know where I was going, or who I could trust.

After what felt like an eternity, the SUV finally pulled into a secluded estate, shrouded in darkness. The iron gates swung open, revealing a long, winding driveway leading to a imposing mansion. The driver cut the engine, and the silence was deafening.

"Get out," he grunted, his voice devoid of emotion.

I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. Where was I? Who had brought me here? What awaited me inside that imposing house? I slowly opened the car door, my legs trembling beneath me. As I stepped out into the darkness, a figure emerged from the shadows of the mansion, his face hidden by the dim light.

"Welcome, Seraphina," he said, his voice a low, menacing drawl that sent shivers down my spine. "I've been expecting you."

He stepped into the light, and I gasped. It wasn't Alessandro. It wasn't anyone I knew. It was Dante Moretti, the ruthless head of the Moretti crime family—the Rossi family's sworn enemy. And he was holding a single, blood-red rose.