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Hadria releases my chin and turns to Nero with a shrug. "You have a problem, take it up with her father."
Fury boils up in my father's face. Hadria—is that what Nero called her?—only looks amused.
"I won't be robbed!" Nero shouts after a moment. "The girl is mine!"
Hadria gives a sigh. "Oh, little brother. When will you learn you can't keep things that don't belong to you?"
"Hadria, you bitch—" he begins through clenched teeth.
"Actually, it's 'Hades' these days," she tells him, and at that name, the whole group of Nero's men sway back, as though for a moment, they're thinking about turning tail and running.
The woman turns to the chapel and raises her voice. "It's time you all knew. I was born Hadria Imperioli, eldest child of Giuseppe Imperioli. But this city knows me as Hades, leader of the Styx Syndicate. And now I've decided it's time to claim what is owed to me. My birthright—the Imperioli Family—everything. But I'm starting with this girl, who was promised to me by her father four years ago. And since none of you can do a goddamn thing to stop me, I suggest you get out of my way."
Nero's men begin to move forward again, but Hadria's people surge to meet them. She pulls me close, shielding me as fists and weapons begin to fly.
"Time to go, Sunshine," she murmurs in my ear. The feel of her breath on my skin makes me shiver. She keeps an arm firmly around my waist as she propels us up the aisle, somehow untouched amidst the brawlers. The guests have already fled to the sides of the chapel, screaming and ducking.
Through the foyer, past more panicked people…
And then she sweeps me outside into the bright morning sun and I take the first breath of free air in my whole life.
CHAPTER 4
Hadria
My heart is poundingas I hurry Aurora out of the church, her intrusively-large wedding skirts catching on every damn thing we pass.
My heart never pounds. Even when I'm staring down the barrel of a gun, it stays steady and familiar. But it's pounding now.
It's just the adrenaline from stealing my brother's bride right out from under his nose. That must be it. God, the shocked look on Nero's slack face was priceless.
But as we hit the street and I take in Aurora's wide eyes and parted lips, an unfamiliar ache blooms in my chest.
"Are you wearing anything under that ridiculous outfit?" I demand. "A slip, like a good little girl?"
Her eyes are big as dinner plates, and she just nods, until I pull my switchblade from my boot. Then she gasps, takes a step back, but I grab her by the neckline of her dress, pull her close again, and slice right down the front of in one clean motion before she can cry out.
The fabric falls away, leaving her in a slip of white satin. I yank the tiara and veil off her head and jam the motorcycle helmet on instead.
And then I throw my leg over the bike I parked right here on the sidewalk, and haul her onto it behind me.
"Better hold on tight, Sunshine," I call over my shoulder as I rev the engine. Her arms wrap around my waist tentatively, clutching tighter as soon as I peel out, and I savor the feel of her body pressed against my back.
But we're already out of time. Two of Nero's men managed to follow us out, and they're already into their car, the engine starting up.
I race through the city like a demon fleeing hell. I risk a glance over my shoulder to judge the distance, and see Aurora's hair streaming behind her like a damn flag, showing Nero's men the way to go.
But that's not fair. She sure didn't seem to want to marry that asshole.
Who would, after all?
I look ahead again, focus on the road twisting and turning before us, and floor it. The acceleration slams us both down into the seat, my thighs tensing to compensate for the force of gravity. I hurtle around a corner and the roar of the engine echoes off buildings, punctuated by the occasional gun shot from behind.
They finally pulled their dick-substitutes out, did they? Interesting. They probably don't want to kill Aurora, or not on purpose, anyway. But if they hit me, we'll crash, and either way, it'd be game over.
So I push my bike harder, faster, until the wind whips tears from my eyes and drowns out everything else.
We reach an intersection, banked up with traffic. I slow slightly, braking before swerving sharply left, skidding sideways through the crossroads, narrowly avoiding collision with a taxi, while another car clips my rear wheel, causing the bike to fishtail wildly before I manage to correct course once more.
