“Stay down!” I hear Uncle Damiano holler above the violent noise, his voice filled with so much danger that more chills scatter through me.
Christiano’s weight slams me into the floor, then his chest almost suffocates me for a few seconds before he braces a hand beside my head while reaching for his gun.
There’s a strained expression on his face as he climbs to his feet, and when he returns fire along with all the other men, my eyes lock on the crimson stain forming on his jacket.
My breaths speed up as the blood slowly spreads over the cream fabric.
No.
Suddenly, Christiano sinks down to his left knee, and while my mind reels, I dart forward to grab hold of him as he slumps to the side.
“No!” I cry, the devastating blow of realizing the man I love has been shot in the back so crippling, I no longer hear the noise around me.
I catch him, and as I press his head to my chest, all I can do is stare into his eyes.
Uncle Damiano drops down on the other side of Christiano, and grabbing his arm, he places it around his shoulders before hauling the man who’s become the most important thing to me back to his feet while I remain kneeling on the tiles.
“I’ve got you, son,” Uncle Damiano says. “Stay with me.”
A buzzing sound begins in my ears as I watch Uncle Damiano drag Christiano out of the shot-up restaurant, Aunt Gabriella and Enzo right behind them.
Slowly, my eyes move, taking in my loved ones’ shocked expressions.
Valentina is standing with the Rizzo brothers.
Rosie and Gianna are sobbing where they’re huddled against Riccardo’s chest.
Mom is helping Bianca while Dad jogs out of the restaurant.
“Sienna?” Augusto grabs hold of me and pulls me up until I’m standing on shaky legs, then my eyes land on Uncle Damiano as he helps Christiano into the back of an SUV.
Wait for me!
I manage to stumble a step forward, but as the doors of the SUV shut and they drive off toward the Cosa Nostra’s hospital, it feels as if my heart claws its way out of my chest to go after Christiano.
Augusto frames my face with his hands and forces me to look at him. “Sienna, are you okay?”
I can’t even shake my head, and my voice sounds foreign as I manage to say, “Hospital. Christiano.”
My brother nods, and placing his arm around me, he ushers me toward his car. I barely notice the wounded guards who are being loaded into other vehicles. There are bodies on the sidewalk and in the street, some belonging to our men, while most are fallen Irish soldiers.
“Is she okay?” Raffaele, Augusto’s second-in-charge, asks.
“Just in shock. Make sure the rest of my family gets safely home. I’m taking her to the hospital.”
“I’ll go with them,” Lorenzo, our head of security, tells Raffaele.
As Augusto helps me into the back seat of his SUV, the reality of what happened at my engagement party shudders through me like a destructive force hell-bent on destroying my sanity.
Looking down, I see blood on my pink dress, and it delivers the most crushing blow I’ve ever experienced.
Christiano has been shot.
This can’t be real.
My breathing speeds up, and when the next thought shudders through my mind, a pain-filled groan gets stuck in my throat.
Christiano was shot because I froze. Instead of taking cover, he ran to get to me.
