*Interconnected Stand Alone*
Twenty-Four hours before we were to be married–I offered to shoot her.
Ten hours before our wedding–I made a mockery of her dying wish.
Five hours before we were going to say our vows–I promised I’d never love her.
One hour before I said I do–I vowed I’d never shed a tear over her death.
But the minute we were pronounced man and wife–I knew.
I’d only use my gun to protect her.
I’d give my life for hers.
And I would, most definitely, lose my heart, to a dying girl—a girl who by all accounts should have never been mine in the first place.
I always believed the mafia would be my end game–where I’d lose my heart, while it claimed my soul. I could have never imagined. It would be my redemption.
Or the beginning of something beautiful.
The beginning of her.
The end of us.