The Bride Who Shot My Father

Three years. Thats how long I chased Lauren.

Three years of begging, of worshiping her, until she finally agreed to marry me.

But at the altar, right as we were supposed to exchange rings, she drew her service weapon.

She pressed the cold barrel of her Glock straight against my father's forehead.

"You son of a bitch," she hissed, her voice vibrating with a decade of pure, unadulterated hatred. "You're the monster who murdered my mentor. Officer Badge Sixty-Six Two-Zero-Five."

"Drop your weapon and surrender. Do it now, or I'll paint this chapel with your blood!"

Before my father could even raise his hands, TobyLaurens younger brotherscreamed.

The sudden, piercing shriek startled her. Her finger, white-knuckled on the trigger, flinched.

She didn't hesitate.

Bang.

The bullet tore straight through my fathers skull.

His body collapsed into a heap on the altar, blood blooming across the pristine marble floor. His eyes stayed wide, staring blankly at the vaulted ceiling, even in death. His custom-tailored wedding suit was instantly soaked in crimson.

In a fraction of a second, my life was obliterated. I went from Boston's golden heir to the worthless son of a dead kingpin.

And Lauren? She climbed to the top of the department, stepping over my familys bones. They handed her a medal. They crowned her a hero.

"Dave," she said to me later, her crisp, dark-blue uniform immaculate, her gaze utterly detached. "I know who your father was. But you're innocent in this."

"Were married now. I'll make sure the prosecutor goes easy on you."

I kept my head down, my fingers digging into the rusted police badge my father had left behind.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to ask her: Who is the real criminal here?

The sharp metal edge of the badge sliced into my palm, warm blood pooling in my hand and dripping through my fingers.

In the blink of an eye, I lunged. I pressed a long, venom-tipped syringe needle directly against her brothers carotid artery.

I looked up at her, my eyes bloodshot, my voice hoarse with a grief so deep it felt like dying.

"I don't want your damn mercy!" I roared. "I want you to reopen the case!"

Lauren slammed her hand down on the hood of the squad car, her knuckles turning bone-white. She glared at me, her voice dropping to a dangerous, low whisper. "Dave, don't force my hand. Don't make me put you in the ground right next to him."

I let out a hysterical laugh, my tears splashing onto the wet asphalt. "Then pull the trigger, Detective Donovan!"

Just as the tip of the needle was about to pierce Toby's skin, the icy mask on Lauren's face finally shattered.

She lunged forward, her movements a blur of practiced violence.

She grabbed my wrist, twisting it with enough force to snap the bone, wrenching the needle from my grip.

Toby collapsed onto the pavement, hacking up bloody spit and shattered teeth. He looked absolutely pathetic.

"Get him out of here!" Lauren hissed through gritted teeth.

Before the other officers could swarm me, I thrashed violently, throwing my weight forward. I sank my teeth deep into the side of her neck, right over her jugular.

I bit down until her skin tore. The metallic tang of her blood flooded my mouth.

Lauren gasped, a low grunt escaping her throat. She slammed me backward against the sharp edge of a metal desk.

The cold iron bit into my lower back, sending a bolt of agony shooting up my spine. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead.

Her shadow loomed over me, blocking out the harsh fluorescent lights. Her chest heaved, her breath ragged. "You're insane."

"Yes," I spat, grabbing her collar and pulling her down, forcing her to look at me. "I am. And you're the one who drove me to it."

"Lauren, the moment you pulled that trigger, I stopped caring about staying alive. I want your life. I want you to pay for what you did to my father!"

Lauren looked down at me, her eyes dark, bottomless wells.

"Dave, I gave you a way out. You chose this."

Without another word, she snapped the heavy steel cuffs around my wrists and hauled me away.

The interrogation room was sterile, bathed in a blinding, aggressive white light that made my skull throb.

Lauren had stripped off her dress jacket. Her white button-down shirt was wrinkled and stained with the blood I had drawn from her neck.

"This is your absolute last chance, Dave." She grabbed my chin, her grip so tight I felt my jawbone creak. "Tell me where you got that badge. If you don't, no one in Boston will be able to protect you."

I tilted my head, staring into her wild, unravelling eyes, and laughed.

"Protect me?" I mocked. "Lauren, you still don't get it, do you? I don't want to survive. I want you and Toby to burn in hell with my father."

The heavy metal door burst open.

Toby stumbled in, half of his face wrapped in thick white gauze, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Lauren... please, don't do this to Dave," he whimpered, his voice cracking dramatically. "He's just hurting. I understand what it's like to lose a father. Even though he tried to kill me just now, I don't hold a grudge."

I leaned forward, a vicious, mocking smile stretching across my face. "Drop the act, Toby. Theres no audience here."

"Dave, how can you say that about me..." Toby gasped for air, his face completely drained of color. "Lauren, I'm really fine. As long as it makes Dave feel better, I'll do whatever he wants."

He swayed, pretending his legs were giving out, and collapsed right into Lauren's arms.

Lauren's expression shifted instantly. She pulled her brother behind her, shielding him, and glared at me with pure, unadulterated disgust.

"You are absolutely disgusting, Dave." Her voice was colder than the air in the room. "Toby barely survived your father's world, and he's still here begging for your sake. Yet you treat him like garbage. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the rotten tree."

I leaned back in the cold metal chair, watching their little display of sibling devotion. It made my stomach churn.

"You're right," I sneered. "And you were raised by that same tree, Lauren. You're just as rotten as the rest of us."

Before she could react, I snatched a heavy metal pen off the interrogation table.

Without a second thought, I plunged the sharp steel tip directly into the bruised, swollen back of my left hand.

"Look at it, Lauren," I whispered, my voice terrifyingly calm as my hand began to throb. "My blood is red. My father's blood was red. Your blood, Toby's bloodit all looks the damn same. What makes you think you two are so holy?"

Crimson spilled rapidly down my wrist, dripping onto the clean table and splashing onto Lauren's white shirt. A few drops even flecked Toby's face.

Toby shrieked, cowering behind Lauren like a frightened child. "Blood... Lauren, I'm scared!"

Lauren lunged forward and wrenched the pen from my hand, her composure entirely gone. She grabbed my bleeding hand, pressing down on the wound with a force that felt like she was trying to crush my bones.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her voice cracking. "Are you insane?! Dave, do you think self-mutilation is going to wash away the sins of the Ward family?"

"Sins?" I leaned in, letting my blood smear all over her palms, laughing like a man who had already crossed over to the other side. "Lauren, do you know what the ultimate sin is? It's murdering the man who saved your life. You're nothing but an ungrateful animal!"

Lauren froze. Her pale, righteous face turned paper-white.

Toby clutched her shirt tighter. "Lauren... he's lying... it hurts so bad... please take me home..."

Lauren took a sharp, ragged breath, forcing down whatever emotion was clawing its way up her throat. She shoved me back.

My spine slammed against the concrete wall, and for a second, I couldn't breathe as pain flared through my ribcage.

"Don't try to bait me, Dave," she said, her voice trembling but cold. "If you want to die, I'll make sure you stay alive. You're going to live and pay for every single one of your father's crimes."

After Lauren left, the officers dragged me out of the interrogation room. Their eyes held nothing but contempt, as if they were looking at a piece of trash.

"You're free to go, Ward. Captain Donovan put up her own bond to bail you out as your spouse."

I had nowhere to go. I scraped together every last penny in my pockets just to buy a simple, cheap black suit.

I knelt alone in the dim, freezing chapel of the mortuary, keeping a silent vigil over my fathers closed casket.

But the peace didn't last.

The quiet roar of high-end engines shattered the silence. A fleet of dozens of black Rolls-Royces, adorned with festive red ribbons, smashed through the gates of the mortuary.

It was a grotesque parade. The black hearse was trapped in a sea of celebratory red wedding cars.

Lauren stepped out of the lead Cullinan.

She wasn't in uniform. Instead, she wore a structured, slate-grey designer dress. Pinned to her lapel was the shiny new medal of honor she'd just been awarded.

Her face was a mask of cold, untouchable authority, silhouetted against the gray Boston drizzle as white funeral programs and rose petals blew across the courtyard.

"Dave. Get in the car," she commanded, standing over me.

"My father's body isn't even cold yet, Lauren," I said, my voice dripping with venom. "And you're already using his corpse as a stepping stone for your career?"

Without a word, she grabbed my wrist, forcing our heavy gold wedding bands back onto my ring finger, pushing it down inch by inch.

"Victor Ward got what he deserved. But you're innocent," she whispered in my ear, her breath warm, her words dripping with a sickening charity. "You might be the son of a criminal, but you're my husband now. You belong to the Donovan family. That's the only reason you're still breathing."

"No one in this city can protect you but me."

I stared at her for a long second, then let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

"Protect me? You're just terrified I'll die too quickly and the public will start asking questions. After all, if it weren't for my father, you would have died in a ditch ten years ago."

"Dave, don't misunderstand my sister," Toby chimed in. He was dressed in a sleek charcoal suit, draping an arm casually over my shoulder. "She's doing this for your own good. The loan sharks and rivals your father left behind would tear you apart. But as the husband of a decorated captain? No one will dare touch you."

He leaned in closer, putting on a show of brotherly concern. "Come on. Take off this dusty mourning suit. Let's get you into a proper tuxedo. Your father can rest in peace knowing you're taken care of."

Before he finished speaking, his cold fingertips slid down my arm, finding the swollen, infected wound on the back of my hand.

And then, he dug his fingernail straight into the raw, pus-filled hole.

"Ah"

A white-hot wave of pain blinded me. My spine locked up, drenched in instant cold sweat, and I violently wrenched my hand away.

Thud.

Toby threw himself backward, tumbling onto the wet asphalt. His forehead clipped the sharp corner of my fathers granite headstone, and dark blood began to mix with the rain on his face.

"Toby!"

Lauren's eyes flared with sudden fury. She shoved me hard.

I fell into a freezing puddle, the sharp gravel tearing open the palms of my hands.

"You are absolutely hopeless, Dave!" she yelled, rushing to scoop Toby into her arms, cradling him as if I were some kind of monster.

"Lauren... I'm fine. Dave is just... he's just grieving..." Toby whimpered, shivering in her arms. But he deliberately pulled back his collar, exposing a nasty purple bruise that he claimed I had given him. "As long as it helps him feel better, I'll crawl on my knees if I have to..."

I wiped the bloody spit from the corner of my mouth and stared at him.

"Fine," I said, my voice carrying over the wind. "You want me to play the happy groom? Then get on your knees. Bow to my father's grave."

"Ninety-nine times. Do it, and I'll marry her. I'll let her keep her shiny medal and her perfect reputation. Deal?"

Toby's eyes welled with tears. "Okay! If it's for my sister, I'll do anything!"

"Stop!" Lauren snapped, grabbing Toby before he could drop to his knees.

She looked at me, her eyes filled with nothing but cold, absolute disgust. She grabbed my wrist, forcing my hand into hers, squeezing so hard my knuckles popped.

"You're marrying me today, Dave. You don't have a choice."

I looked at her beautiful, victorious face.

I raised my foot and kicked the brass tribute urn, sending the burning embers and white-hot charcoal scattering into the rain.

As the white paper programs swirled around us like falling snow, I laughed until tears of blood squeezed from my eyes.

"Remember this day, Lauren," I whispered, every syllable laced with poison. "I am your reckoning."

After the wedding, Lauren locked me away in her secluded estate in the hills.

She was terrified I would ruin her career with another public breakdown.

By nightfall, my body was burning with a hundred-and-two-degree fever. The puncture wound on the back of my hand had grown badly infected, the swollen, angry red flesh weeping pus onto her pristine white silk sheets.

The door clicked open.

Lauren walked in, holding a bowl of warm broth.

"Eat," she said, her voice flat, placing a bottle of antibiotics and the bowl on the nightstand.

I kept my eyes closed, lacking even the strength to look at her. A dry, pathetic laugh rattled in my throat.

"Are you so afraid I'll die, Lauren? Afraid you won't get to parade your pet criminal's son around while you climb the ranks?"

Lauren's breath hitched. "Do you have to do this every single time, Dave?"

I opened my eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. "Did you honestly expect me to smile at my father's killer?"

Her eyes rimmed with red. "Dave! When are you going to get it through your thick skull? Your father was a monster! Ending him was my job!"

I summoned every ounce of my remaining strength to swing my arm, knocking the bowl off the table. It shattered against the hardwood floor.

"Stop pretending, Lauren! It makes me sick!" I snarled. "You didn't even know who he really was. You just pulled the trigger, and now you play the saint?"

Lauren closed her eyes, slowly kneeling to pick up the broken porcelain pieces. Her voice softened, losing its sharp edge.

"Dav, you knew what he was better than anyone. He was the Red Scorpion. A single word from him could set the entire East Coast underbelly on fire."

I dragged myself up against the headboard, my vision swimming. "He wasn't!"

As I swung my legs out of bed, my bare sole caught a sharp piece of porcelain. I gasped as a deep gash opened up, blood quickly pooling on the floor.

"Stop moving!" Lauren barked, dropping the shards and grabbing my ankle.

"Let go..." I muttered, but the pain was too much, and a soft groan escaped my lips.

She paused, her grip softening as she cradled my foot in her hands.

She had done this a thousand times over the last ten years.

She was an orphan my father had taken in. For years, she had protected me, watched over me like an older sister, returning the favor of my fathers kindness.

Lauren grabbed the first-aid kit from the bathroom. She soaked a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol and pressed it against the cut.

"Ah!" I flinched, my back arching as a cold sweat broke out across my neck.

"Hold still," she murmured, her knuckles white as she bandaged my foot.

I stared down at her, my voice raw and empty.

"You killed him, Lauren. And now you're trying to heal me. Don't you find yourself utterly pathetic?"

I leaned down, my feverish breath brushing against her neck. "You built your entire career on the blood of the man who raised you, and yet here you are, acting like you care."

"Shut up!" Lauren snapped, her eyes wild and bloodshot. The agonizing guilt she had been suppressing finally broke through her cold facade. "I told you, he brought this on himself!"

I grabbed her wrist, digging my fingernails into her skin.

I looked straight into her eyes and smiled.

"What if he was innocent, Lauren?"

"Come closer. Let me tell you a secret..."