Chapter 10 - The Wedding of WolvesThe wedding took place in Italy.
Anna had objected.
Not to the marriage.
To the scale.
“I said small.”
“This is small.”
“There are two hundred and forty guests.”
“Two hundred and twelve.”
“Lorenzo.”
“Twenty-eight declined.”
“That does not help.”
They stood on the terrace of a restored villa overlooking Lake Como.
Below them, staff prepared hundreds of white flowers.
Security occupied every entrance.
Anna pointed toward the garden.
“There are men with rifles in the hedges.”
“Security.”
“At a wedding.”
“My wedding.”
“Our wedding.”
Lorenzo smiled.
“Exactly.”
Anna folded her arms.
“I wanted dinner with family.”
“This is dinner with family.”
“Half the Italian criminal economy is downstairs.”
“Some are in legitimate businesses.”
“That sentence is doing dangerous amounts of work.”
Lorenzo pulled her toward him.
She tried to remain annoyed.
Failed.
Their wedding was scheduled for sunset.
Elena helped Anna dress.
For years, mother and daughter had avoided discussing the past.
Now they spoke freely.
Not without pain.
But without lies.
Anna wore ivory silk.
No enormous train.
No crown.
No spectacle.
One concession to simplicity.
Elena fastened a necklace around her neck.
Anna touched it.
A tiny gold bird.
“Your father gave it to me when you were born.”
Anna swallowed.
“Where is he?”
“Nervous.”
“My father?”
“Terrified.”
Anna smiled.
Antonio waited outside.
When he saw her, he stopped breathing.
For a moment, Anna was fourteen again.
Then twelve.
Then six.
His little girl.
“Bella mia.”
His voice broke.
Anna hugged him.
“You missed a lot.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get it back.”
“I know.”
“But you can be here now.”
Antonio closed his eyes.
“Thank you.”
He walked her toward the ceremony.
Guests stood.
Anna barely saw them.
She saw Lorenzo.
Black tuxedo.
No expression.
Until he saw her.
Then everything disappeared from his face except wonder.
Anna smiled.
He mouthed something.
Little bird.
She shook her head.
Peacock.
He smiled.
Antonio placed her hand in Lorenzo’s.
Then hesitated.
“If you hurt her—”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“You’ll what?”
Antonio considered.
“Complain aggressively.”
Anna laughed.
Lorenzo did too.
The ceremony was simple.
Their vows were not.
Lorenzo spoke first.
“I spent most of my life believing love was another word for vulnerability.”
Anna’s eyes burned.
“Then you walked into my life and insulted me.”
Laughter moved through the guests.
“And somehow you taught me vulnerability is not weakness.”
He held her hands.
“It is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting that they will choose not to.”
Anna whispered.
“No pressure.”
More laughter.
Lorenzo smiled.
“I choose you.”
Anna’s turn.
She looked at the man before her.
“I spent most of my life running from wolves.”
Her voice steadied.
“I thought safety meant distance.”
She squeezed his hands.
“Then I met one who taught me the difference between being protected and being imprisoned.”
Lorenzo’s eyes darkened with emotion.
“You never made me smaller.”
Anna continued.
“You challenged me.”
A smile.
“Infuriated me.”
Another.
“Overpaid me.”
Lorenzo whispered.
“Still underpaid.”
Anna laughed.
“And loved me exactly as I was.”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“So I choose you too.”
They exchanged rings.
The priest pronounced them husband and wife.
Lorenzo kissed her.
Guests applauded.
Somewhere behind them, Antonio cried and denied it immediately.
The reception continued long after midnight.
Anna danced with her father.
Then Leo.
Then Teresa.
Finally Lorenzo reclaimed her.
“You’ve danced with everyone except your husband.”
“You were busy intimidating diplomats.”
“He insulted the wine.”
“So execution at dawn?”
“Considering it.”
Anna rested her head against his chest.
Music moved through the garden.
“What now?”
She asked.
“Honeymoon.”
“After.”
Lorenzo looked down.
“Life.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“With you?”
He kissed her forehead.
“Extremely.”
One year later, the Moretti organization completed its largest transition.
Most of its legitimate holdings were consolidated into a multinational logistics company.
Illegal operations diminished.
Not because Lorenzo had suddenly developed respect for law.
Anna was realistic enough to know better.
He simply discovered legitimate power could be more durable than criminal power.
And Anna became central to it.
She negotiated European contracts.
Managed international partnerships.
Spoke five languages now.
Her office overlooked Manhattan.
On her desk sat one object from her old life.
The platinum American Express card Lorenzo had placed on the Baccarat counter.
She had stolen it from him.
He claimed it was theft.
She called it compensation.
One evening, Lorenzo entered her office.
“You missed dinner.”
Anna did not look up.
“I’m occupied.”
“That sounds familiar.”
She smiled.
He walked behind her.
Placed his hands on her shoulders.
“What are you reading?”
“Naples expansion proposal.”
“No.”
Anna turned.
“No?”
“We’re taking the weekend off.”
“I have meetings.”
“Canceled.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You canceled my meetings?”
“Yes.”
“Lorenzo.”
“You’ve worked fourteen-hour days for three weeks.”
“So?”
“So I know exactly what happens when you work fourteen-hour shifts.”
Anna remembered.
The Baccarat.
The insult.
The penthouse.
Everything.
She laughed.
“Fine.”
Lorenzo looked suspicious.
“That was easy.”
“I’m growing.”
“Terrifying.”
They left together.
The elevator descended.
Anna leaned against him.
“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if the penthouse had been available?”
Lorenzo considered.
“I would have taken it.”
“And never met me.”
“No.”
She looked up.
“You’re very confident.”
“I would have found you eventually.”
“How?”
“I make my own luck.”
Anna rolled her eyes.
The elevator doors opened.
Outside, a black Maybach waited.
Exactly like the first night.
Only now Lorenzo opened the door and Anna entered willingly.
He sat beside her.
The partition rose.
Anna took his hand.
“Home?”
He kissed her fingers.
“Home.”
The Maybach entered the Manhattan night.
Years earlier, Anna Bennett had believed safety meant hiding from the world that created her.
She had been wrong.
Safety was not a hotel desk.
Not a changed surname.
Not a locked apartment.
Not even armed guards and stone walls.
Safety was knowing the truth.
Knowing herself.
And knowing that when the wolves came, she would never again face them alone.
Beside her sat Lorenzo Moretti.
Her husband.
Her partner.
Her most dangerous mistake.
And the best choice she had ever made.
Anna rested her head against his shoulder.
Lorenzo looked down at her.
“What?”
She smiled.
“Nothing.”
“You have that expression.”
“What expression?”
“The one you had before insulting me at the Baccarat.”
Anna switched into flawless Neapolitan.
“The peacock finally learned manners.”
Lorenzo laughed.
Then answered in the same dialect.
“And the little bird finally admitted she likes wolves.”
Anna kissed him.
Outside, Manhattan moved around them.
Inside the car, for the first time in either of their lives, there were no secrets left between them.
At least none that mattered.
May you like
And somewhere beneath the lights of the city, the ghosts of the Black Cross finally disappeared.
The End.
