Page 36 of Dirty Legacy

He moves fast. I try to jerk back but he grabs one arm, turns his hips for leverage, and hoists me up. I scream, kicking my legs and thrashing my arms, but he pins me and holds me over his shoulder like a caveman claiming his prize.

“Put me down! Connor, what the fuck⁠—!”

He kicks open my bedroom door and carries me into the living room. My mom’s standing in the kitchen, frozen in shock, as I’m thrown mercilessly onto the couch. I land heavily with a gasp, try to leap up, but Connor pushes me down again, pinning me with a hand against my chest.

“Father Charles. We should begin.”

“What the hell are you doing?!” Mom comes rushing out of the kitchen. “This is fucking crazy. I’m calling the cops.”

Connor reaches into his jacket. This time, he really does draw a gun.

I gasp, covering my mouth, as he turns and aims it at my mother’s head.

“Father Charles,” Connor repeats calmly. “The ceremony, please.”

“What… the fuck…” Mom stands very still, going pale. She looks ten years older and so frail. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t hurt me.”

Hurt you?! What about me?!

Father Charles flips open his Bible and clears his throat. “I apologize for this, I truly do, but Connor here impressed upon me the nature of the situation⁠—“

“Father, I’m holding my future mother-in-law at gunpoint. Let’s skip the preamble.”

Father Charles turns to me and tries a nervous smile. “Yes, ah, yes, of course. Ahem, well, let’s skip past this… and this…” He flips a few pages. “Yes, here we are. In the name of the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Ah, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

“We have,” Connor says.

“Fuck no! This is insane!”

“Very good.” Father Charles looks back down at the Bible as if I didn’t speak. “Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”

“I will.” Connor sounds like he truly means it. “Angie, say it.”

“Hell no, please, don’t do this!” I look at my mom in a desperate panic, but she’s pinned to the spot, not moving a muscle. “We can’t seriously be doing this?”

“Wonderful.” Father Charles licks his finger and turns a page. “Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands and declare your consent before God and his Church.”

Connor switches the gun to his left hand and drops to his knees in front of me. He takes my right in his, gripping tightly, the pistol still pointed at my mother. He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles, and my heart goes wild, racing a mad rhythm against my ribs.

This can’t be happening. I can’t find this exciting. There’s no way this is legal.

“I, Connor Maguire, take you, Angelina Bellandi, to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you—“ He kisses my wrist. “—in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health—“ He kisses each tip of my fingers. “—to love you and to honor you all the days of my life. I swear it on my heart and by my soul, to death.”

Silence falls. Mom’s mouth moves like a fish. Father Charles watches me expectantly.

The world flattens to Connor. His words ring in my ears, but not only what he said, but how he said them, like each was a prayer, a divine pact written in blood, and this all becomes real, all of it. The gun, the marriage, the baby, the threats, the fear. It’s real, it’s happening, and I’m going to be his wife. There’s no stopping him.

“We can skip—“ Father Charles starts.

But I cut him off. “I promise to be your wife,” I whisper, choking out the words. “If you protect our baby to your dying breath.”

“I will,” he says.

And I believe him. “Father. Finish the ceremony.”

Father Charles clears his throat. “Not the traditional vows, but good enough. What God has joined together, let no one put asunder. Ring now, please.”

Connor cuts his eyes to my mom. “You move and you bleed.” He places the gun on the floor and takes out the ring again. I watch, horrified, fascinated, as he puts it on my finger. It’s slightly too big, but it fits close enough. “Beautiful,” he says, kissing the stone one more time.