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“What did you have in mind?” Dominic asks his uncle.
Dad reaches behind his back and pulls out a grenade. Holding it up, he smiles. “Let’s ring the doorbell, shall we?”
It’s chaos the moment the explosion goes off. Bullets fly through the lingering dust and debris cloud, but we expected that. We wait for a break in the fire and slip inside while the soldiers reload. Now that our presence is known, stealth is no longer needed. We make quick work of the handful of soldiers inside, then I’m standing in the middle of the aisle with a gun in each hand, pointing them at the two men the devil waits to welcome.
Rose stares at me, her beautiful face blotchy and red, and her eyes a cascade of emotions. Terror, relief, and anger all flash across her emerald orbs. She’s wearing a simple white dress, which only angers me more.Her bastard father went as far as to even think about a dress for the ceremony.
With a quick scan of the cathedral,I know Liam isn’t here in the main space. This means he’s either not here at all or in the back, where hopefully Raphael has found him by now.
“Well, if it isn’t the DiAngelos.” Patrick smirks, his tone even and unimpressed, like he’s not scared of the gun pointed at his head. He should be. My trigger finger’s feeling a little bit twitchy this evening. “Come to congratulate the happy couple?”
“Let her go, Patrick,” Dad orders, coming up beside me.
“Gladly.” Patrick releases his grip on Rose’s arm and shoves her directly into Igor’s embrace. “She’s no longer my problem.”
Rose cries out when Igor grabs her, his meaty hands all over her body. “I’m looking forward to our wedding night.”
Icatch on to his meaning, and then all I see is red.
I fire, and a bullet clips Patrick’s shoulder. With a curse, he staggers backwards and swiftly retaliates by drawing his gun and firing. I move at the last second but not before a burning sensation explodes from my thigh. I fall to the ground, my breath coming in short hisses between my clenched teeth. I’m already losing a lot of blood. I can feel the slow but steady stream of life flowing out from the wound. The bastard must have nicked an artery. I don’t have much time, but I’m determined to finish this. Because if I’m to die tonight, it will not be before Rose and Liam are safe. The devil can wait to collect my soul.
“You fucking bastard!” Patrick shouts, his heavy Irish accent echoing through the cathedral. A second later, I hear Rose cry out and fight through the pain to stand, immediately training my gun on Patrick. He holds Rose in front of him like a shield, his uninjured arm tight around her neck while he struggles to hold his gun in the other to her head. “Surrender now, or I will kill her. I swear I will.”
Even with a gun pointed at her head, Rose fights hard against her dad’s hold. I’m insanely proud of her and the fire burning inside her, but I also know that it will only take one slip of his finger to end her life.
“This wasn’t part of the deal, Patrick,” Igor spits, his face flushed red with anger. “She’s my wife now. If you kill her, the deal is off.”
“What deal is that?” Dad asks, turning his gun on the Russian.
Igor eyes my dad warily. Before he can answer, though, Patrick interrupts. “I want your seat, Dante. I want to be Head of the High Table, and Igor is going to help me get it.”
“And how’s that exactly? Igor doesn’t speak for the Mikhailovs. Unless you’re telling me that Sergei is in on your little scheme too?”
“My brother doesn’t know shit,” Igor reveals.
“So how is Igor supposed to help you, Patrick?” Dante asks.
It all suddenly clicks in my brain. Marry his daughter to the Russians, the daughter who has a son fathered by the eldest DiAngelo. “Liam.”
“That’s right.” Patrick smirks. “Use that bastard son of yours to force Dante to give up his seat.”
“So what? Marrying Rose to Igor was just a conciliation prize or something?” He could use my son with or without Rose married to the pig.
Patrick snorts. “Igor wanted the girl.”
“Part of the deal,” Igor adds.
“And selling her into the sex trade?” I snap. “Was that part of the deal too?”
Igor narrows his eyes on Patrick. “You did not tell me this.”
“It makes no difference now.” Patrick waves away the comment like a bothersome fly. “You wanted a virgin wife. She was soiled goods when I found her in Italy. Had I known Michael was the child’s father, I wouldn’t have been forced to sell her.”
“You wouldn’t have had to marry her to Igor either,” Dad voices. “We could have discussed a wedding between Michael and Rose.”
Igor narrows his eyes at our dad but stays silent.
Patrick scoffs. “You wouldn’t have given my demands the time of day. I want your seat. Do you not understand that? As if you would give that up without a little…persuasion.”
