Maria walks ahead, but I grab Sophia’s hand, holding her back. “If things go sideways, you stay behind me. Got it?”
“Ensuring your bride isn’t hurt?” she asks, bitterness coating her words.
“Ensuring the woman I’ve obsessed over for a year doesn’t get hurt before I have the privilege of becoming her husband.” My voice is low, steady, but there’s no mistaking the intensity behind it.
Her mouth drops open, and I take a step back toward the elevator. When she joins us, her face is red, a mixture of embarrassment and fury I can’t help but find… captivating.
Maria hits the button for the elevator, and the doors slide open with a soft hiss. We step inside together, the metal walls reflecting the faint light. I pray silently that nothing has started upstairs, that we are not walking straight into chaos.
“I need you to call your brother, Antonio,” I say.
“If we go to his office, I can use the phone in there,” Sophia replies, her eyes darting toward me.
“Where is your phone?” I ask, keeping my tone even.
“We ditched them to escape,” Maria states flatly.
“Remind me to thank you for that later,” I say, staring at her with a cold intensity. No humor in my gaze.
“Hey,” Sophia snaps, stepping closer to Maria, “don’t you go picking on her. She’smyfriend, and she was protectingme.”
I glance at Sophia, noting the flush in her cheeks and the sharp edge in her voice. I can almost hear the unspoken challenge beneath it, and it makes my chest tighten. Protectingher—both of them—isn’t just duty, it’s an overwhelming compulsion. If Sophia cares for Maria, then I do too.
The doors to the elevator slide open, and no one is waiting. I press a finger to my lips, signaling the women to stay quiet, then slip out and push open the hidden door under the stairs. I peer into the hallway—empty. Nothing stirs. I step lightly, ears straining, scanning every shadow.
Glancing back, I signal for them to follow. Sophia steps forward, moving ahead of me, and I shake my head. “No.”
“I know how to get through my house without being seen. You don’t,” she whispers.
I close my eyes, nodding. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. I don’t. But she’s right—Sophia knows this house better than I ever could.
When Maria moves to pass me, I grab her arm, shake my head, and slot her behind me.
“Fine,” Maria whispers loudly, just enough for me to hear.
I glance over my shoulder, eyes sharp. “And don’t shoot me if things get real.”
Maria stifles a laugh, a quick, nervous sound. “Well… that’d be one way to stop the wedding.”
I let a corner of a smirk slip, though the tension in my chest doesn’t ease. And while we are moving through the house, guided by Sophia’s familiarity, I can only pray my instincts—and my guns—are enough to keep them safe.
There are so many hidden passages in this house that I’m glad I let Sophia lead. Every step she takes, every turn she knows, makes my chest tighten in both relief and frustration—relief that she knows where she’s going, frustration that I don’t. Whenwe marry and have a home of our own, there will be at least one hidden passage. Just in case anything happens, so we can escape.
We’re back in Antonio’s office, and I’ve locked the door behind us. Sophia is pacing, phone pressed to her ear.
“Antonio, I need you to come to your office.”
A pause. She rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath.
“No, it has nothing to do with the wedding. But I’m pissed at you for not telling me.”
Another pause, longer this time. Her fingers tighten around the phone.
“Can you just get your ass in here, please?”
She slams the phone down and glares at me, eyes blazing. “He’s coming.”
I nod once, and remain silent. My gaze sweeps over the office, noting the angles, the doors, the possible exits. As much as I want to tell Sophia to relax, to trust me, I know better. Marrying me wasn’t something she wanted. My mind drifts back to last Halloween when she was in my arms and right now it feels like a lifetime ago, my job is to keep them both alive until we get through this.
