He nods and then removes his hand. “Go ahead, Father.”
The priest begins, his eyes milky, his voice shaky.
I can’t hear his words over the blood whooshing in my ears as I stare at Michael, the numbness giving way to a hurricane of emotion. Helplessness. Rage. Terror. Grief. It’s a tempest in my body, making me dizzy and hot. I clutch my damphands together to keep myself from leaping forward and digging my nails into his face.
I’m shocked that I’m capable of such hatred. Such venom. I’m learning something about myself in this moment. As much as I enjoy helping people heal, I would also enjoy tearing this man apart with my bare hands. Some would call it revenge, but to me it would feel like justice.
Just then the heavy oak front doors burst open.
Killian strolls through them dressed in black combat pants, heavy boots and a black, long-sleeved henley. His eyes find mine immediately. They’re burning with a lethal, controlled fire. His jaw is locked, a muscle jumping beneath the skin as rage coils through him, and I know he’s already decided. Anyone standing between us is just an obstacle. Including Michael.
A relieved whoosh of breath escapes me and then everything moves in slow motion.
Michael yanks me behind him. The mafia men leap up and point their assault rifles at Killian.
He stalks deeper into the room, ignoring the weapons pointed at him, his eyes locked on mine. And he’s alone.
Chapter 50
Killian
I’m standing in the middle of Barone’s living room with a half dozen guns pointed at me. The smart thing would’ve been to wait until I knew Amato’s men got their new marching orders. But when it comes to protecting Sam, better to be too early than too late.
All I can see is her. My girl. She’s alive and absolutely beautiful dressed in black, her shiny hair falling around her shoulders. Her shocked, whiskey eyes haven’t left mine since I made my entrance, even as Barone is trying to keep her behind him. She’s anchoring herself to me like a lifeline.
The tight band squeezing my ribs since the moment I learned she was gone is finally letting up. My heartbeat is slowing to a steady thud.
Hang on, love. It’s almost over.
The priest is huddling in the corner, clutching his Bible. He may not understand what’s happening here, but he can sense the violence in the air.
I flick my gaze to Barone. There’s a smug smirk fixed in place. One that I’ll enjoy wiping from his face.
His eyes narrow, like he can sense my thoughts. Then his gaze sweeps over me, my unconcerned stance, my empty hands,the cold fury in my eyes. He pulls Sam in front of him like a shield, eyeing Amato’s soldiers.
Yeah, on some level he feels what’s coming.
There’s nowhere to hide, you cocksucker.
He’s gripping her shoulders with both his soft, manicured hands. I’m going to break them, finger by finger. He clears his throat, tries to sound in control. “I don’t remember requesting your presence at our wedding, Mr. Donnelly. But before these men send you to hell, you’re welcome to have a seat and watch Samantha becomemy wife.” He growls the last two words.
“She’s not yours, you fuckin’ prick.”
I see Sam’s terrified gaze move to the men still aiming their weapons at me. When her eyes find mine again, I wink.
“What?” he snorts. “You think she’s yours?”
There’s a buzzing sound in the room. Cell phones going off in unison.
The Italians pull out their phones, read the text and then glance at each other. Two of the lads standing in front of Barone share a few quiet words.
“What’s going on?” Michael barks.
They don’t answer him. I watch to see if they understand the new assignment. One of them smirks at me, and I know they do.
Barone’s eyes land back on me. He seems a little uncertain as he says, “Men, will you help Mr. Donnelly have a seat so we can continue the ceremony.”
I shove my hands in my pockets and glance over at the terrified old priest. “You can leave. Your services won’t be needed today, Father.”
