Fate´s Redemption Prologue

The bridesmaid blasted through the reception hall doors and ran to the groom. She was so gripped by fear that her entire body shook uncontrollably and the loud music made it difficult for the groom to hear what she was saying. The groom leaned over and the woman screamed something into his ear. Then he ran out of the hall.

The groom practically knocked the doors off their hinges when he entered the nursery, where his year-old babies wailed loudly as if they knew the gravity of the situation. He saw his wife, who was bound and gagged-her eyes bulging out of her head. Her face revealed the unimaginable fear that must have filled her mind. But the wife wasn't as afraid for herself or her husband, as she was for her two children, who lay in their crib, screaming for the affection they could only get from their mother.

A man was standing next to the wife with a silenced 9mm to her head. The hired nanny was lying in a pool of her own blood near the twin infants. The man had shot her in the face and chest when she tried to protect the children.

For a brief moment, the groom could hear the beating of his heart, which pounded in his chest like a jackhammer, threatening to explode. Having committed one murder, he knew the man had nothing to lose. He kept telling himself to stay calm, when everything in him wanted to wrestle the gun away from him, put it in his mouth, and fire until there were no bullets left.

The man grinned. "So glad you could make it." He had a glazed, almost vacant look in his eyes. "We've got some unfinished business-you and I."

Somehow I've got to stall him. Make him think about what he's doing. "What do you want?" The groom asked in a forced calm. He looked completely relaxed, but he was mortified. I've gotta do something before he pulls the trigger.

"Isn't it obvious?" The man asked with a twisted grin. "I want you to watch her die. That's what I want."

"As you see," he continued and looked at the slain nanny, "I won't hesitate to kill, Doctor. I've killed eight others. I can still see their faces . . ." He seemed to be loosing his grip on reality, but quickly gathered himself. "I'M NOT CRAZY!" The man shouted, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, collecting himself again.

"I can't begin to tell you the rage I felt when I saw your wedding plans in the Chronicle," the man continued. "Here you two were getting married and moving on with your pathetic lives. And here I am with nothin'. No wife, no kids, no partner, nothin'. You two ruined my life. Now, do you really think I'm going to standby and watch you two have the best of everything? I sat in there and watched you two at that altar, looking into each other eyes, saying your little vows like a 90's version of Cinderella. Well, you can forget about this fairy tale ending happily ever after."

"You don't want to kill her," the groom offered calmly, trying to maintain his composure. "I'm the one you wanted to hurt that night, not her. Please, let her and the babies go, and take me."

"Do you really think I'm going to let her go so you can be Prince Valiant? DO YOU?" The man screamed. "And don't think for a moment you can get into my head and talk your way outta this. I've been planning your deaths for too long to stop now." He pulled out another 9mm and slid it across the floor. It stopped about eight inches from the groom's feet.

"Pick it up."

"Let's talk about this." The groom desperately pleaded with the man.

"That's the gun you took outta my holster that night. And this one, the one I'm holding to your pretty little wife's head, this is Sykes' gun. This way, it ends the way it was supposed to that night. Sykes would have killed you with this gun, Dr. Moretti," he told the bride. "As it stands, this same gun is going to kill you." The man looked at the groom and yelled, "PICK IT UP, WILLY!"

"You expect me to be able to pick the gun up and shoot you before you pull the trigger?"

"That's the deal, Willy. And ya got ten seconds to try."

"What happened? Did your wife leave you while you were in prison?"

"Ten . . . Nine . . ."

The groom's mind raced. Time was dwindling. His precious bride's eyes seem to be pleading with him to go for the gun; her muffled pleas made him even more anxious. The groom was a marksman, but with the stress of the situation he was afraid he would accidentally shoot her instead.

"What happened to you in prison?" The groom stalled. "Were you abused? Sexually assaulted?"

"Eight . . . Seven . . . Six . . ."

Seeing no other way out, the groom picked up the gun as quickly as he could and squeezed the trigger . . .

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