She didn’t try to get to Luca, the man she loved.
Jealousy sank sharp black claws into my heart, but the blade in my hand shifted. I slammed the hilt into my enemy’s skull, and his eyes rolled back in his head. I’d made sure he couldn’t fight me anymore. Not when Nora’s life was on the line.
“Fucking bastard,” I growled at my unconscious enemy. “Stupid, selfish son of a bitch.”
Instead of prioritizing her safety, he’d tried to kill me.
I craved to kill him, to end him so that he could never breathe the same air as her again. If I slit his throat now, he’d never be able to tell her the truth that we both knew: he loved her too.
It was why he’d accepted this tenuous, temporary alliance with me against the Russians. It was all to save her. He would sacrifice anything for Nora.
If you care about me at all, don’t hurt him. Her plea tormented me, staying my hand when I should’ve ended Luca’s life with one swift slash of my knife.
An animal sound tore from my throat as I shoved away from my enemy and sheathed the blade at my side, rushing to Nora’s unnervingly still form. She was unbearably delicate, her skin too pale against the crimson pool beneath her body: a fragile, broken doll.
Mine. She was mine, and the Russians had brutalized her.
And it was all Luca’s fault. I still wasn’t sure exactly how she’d fallen into the Bratva’s hands, but the reckless bastard had let her flee from the safety of my estate.
My stomach twisted. Did she loathe me so much that she felt she had to escape from our home? Had I hurt her so deeply that she truly thought I was a monster, her captor rather than her husband?
I gritted my teeth and shoved the dark thoughts away.
All I’d ever wanted was to protect my wife.
I’d failed.
I carefully gathered her up in my arms, holding her close to my chest. She didn’t stir.
“Nora.” I rasped her name, taking in her injuries.
She was breathing shallowly, and her face was bloody. I could see dark bruises forming on her soft skin where her clothes had been ripped away. And the slick crimson smear between her thighs…
I howled out my rage, but I kept my hold achingly gentle. I wouldn’t do anything that might harm her. Not ever.
Gunfire still popped around us, the battle ongoing. Luca and I had surged in first, desperate to get to Nora. Now, our men had the Russians pinned down, our combined forces more than the Bratva had bargained for.
I scanned the warehouse for survivors in our immediate vicinity, and something gold glinted to my right. Another primal sound ripped from me at the sight of Nora’s pendant in the dead man’s hand. I snatched it back, the jagged, cut metal biting into my palm. It pained me more keenly than the wound where Luca had driven the knife into my shoulder; that pain was little more than a low buzz at the back of my mind. I was too high on adrenaline to feel it, and my full focus was centered on Nora. I had to get her out.
The need to kill more of the Russian bastards was an itch beneath my skin, but she was more important. I would take my full revenge later, when I could truly savor their screams.
I tried to step over Luca’s unmoving body, but my feet stuck to the concrete.
I love him! Nora’s desperate declaration grated through my mind.
I couldn’t leave the son of a bitch here to die. She would never forgive me. She would never love me.
The realization hit me like a sucker punch. I didn’t simply desire my wife’s devotion; I wanted her love.
But she’d given her heart to Luca, the weak, useless bastard.
Her heart would break if he died today, and she’d already suffered so much. I wouldn’t be responsible for her pain.
I’d already failed her unforgivably.
Half a dozen men burst into the warehouse, breaking past the Russians to help rescue my wife. I recognized one of them who was loyal to Luca. The rest were mine.
“Get Vitale out of here,” I ordered my men. “We’re going back to my estate. We’ll finish the Bratva soon enough.”
