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“You disrespect me?” he brazenly hollers.
The priest stops the mass, and a hush comes over the church. I glance at Papa, who looks furious, like he wants to slap me himself.
“Yes, I’m disrespecting you.” I whip my veil flap over. “Do you think anyone who does this to a woman deserves respect?”
“No,” a deep voice from the back of the church booms.
Lachlan O’Rourke stands there, dressed in a suit and tie. Was he wearing that before? I hadn’t noticed. Aseaof men stand behind him, assault rifles pointed our way. A scream tears from the choir balcony as men with guns crawl up there, too.
“What is this?” Papa yells and reaches for his gun.
“I wouldn’t do that, pakhan.” Lachlan struts up the aisle, like it’shiswedding.
He comically reminds me of the scene inDirty Dancingwhen Patrick Swayze dances toward the stage with an entourage behind him while Baby watches him.
No one puts Baby in the corner. The iconic line never felt more realistic.
No one puts Katya in a wedding dress against her will.
This must be a dream. I can’t believe this is happening.
“You’re outnumbered,” Lachlan says, beaming with pride. “Only twelve men outside, pakhan? How sad.”
Griffin Quinlan follows Lachlan on the left, pointing his rifle at Papa. A man I don’t recognize on his right aims at Maksim.
I’ve kept to myself since I arrived in Astoria—a scared twelve-year-old girl ripped from my angelic life in France and dumped onto Papa’s estate—but I know youdon’t point a gun at the pakhan. The same goes for the Irish and Italian Dons.
“I have twenty trigger-happy souls in here andthirtymore outside. Your men have been rounded up and are being held at gunpoint. You lose this one, pakhan.”
“What do you want, enforcer?” Papa says smugly, thinking this is an opportunity to negotiate something more favorable.
It’s always abouthim!
“I want her,” Lachlan barks, his gaze turning to me. “Katriane is marryingmetoday.”
Even I gasp, along with the captive audience. I wasn’t expectingthat.The look of bloodlust in his eyes grabs me by the throat. Despite the terror running through me, despite the aches and pains, my body physically reacts to Lachlan.
He’s the most handsome of the O’Rourke brothers. And that scar on his left cheek makes him more striking.
“Listen, you slimybuckeroo.” Rahil pushes me out of the way so hard that I tumble onto my ass.
Lachlan roars. “That’s thesecondbiggest mistake of your miserable life,fuckeroo. The first one was bruising such a beautiful face.”
From his jacket, he takes out a massive handgun and, without moving a muscle in his face, Lachlan aims his gun at Rahil’s head.
The thud of a bullet breaking through skull echoes through the rafters, the sound only broken by Nadia’s screaming. “Rahil!”
The spray of blood hits me, my dress speckled with the kind of deep, crimson ooze that comes from the brain.
“How dare you!” Papa whips out his gun.
“Don’t do it, pakhan,” Griffin sneers. “We have a code between us. We don’t kill made men.”
“That scum who hurt your daughter isn’t one of us.” Lachlan gently lifts me off the floor and fastens me to his side.
Nadia whimpers over Rahil’s body, but no one else moves.
Lachlan whispers to the man on the right I don’t recognize, and next, he and the others are dragging Rahil’s dead body off the altar, guns aimed at Nadia to be quiet.
