And then I see him.
Rafael Milano walks through the carnage like a king surveying his conquered territory, his dark suit impeccable despite the violence unfolding around him, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that steals the breath from my lungs.
He has a gun in his hand, and he moves with the fluid grace of a man who has walked through hell so many times that even the flames have learned to part for him.
Two men flank him, both massive and dangerous and bearing matching viper tattoos on their hands that I can see even from this distance. One of them breaks off to rifle through a stack of files that Magnus’s lawyer dropped in his haste to flee, while the other presses the barrel of his weapon against Magnus’s temple with a casualness that suggests he’s done this many times before.
Good to know.
“I hope you try for a weapon.” The man’s Russian accent wraps around his words giving them more weight. “I have no problem helping you meet your maker. You're in his home, so your soul won’t have to travel far, right?”
Magnus goes very still, his face draining of color. For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks afraid, and the sight of it sends a savage thrill of satisfaction through my chest.
Rafael reaches my father’s side and presses his own weapon against the back of his skull with an easy familiarity that makes my breath catch. He was born from the same cloth as violence.
Rafael keeps his eyes locked on me as he answers.“I’m here for your daughter.”
The mafia man flashes me a grin like it’s just a regular Tuesday even crashing a wedding and stealing the bride. Hell, maybe it is for him.
And he’s pretty freaking direct.
“You can’t have her.” My father’s voice shakes despite his attempt at authority, sweat beading on his forehead as he realizes how completely he’s lost control of this situation. “This is her wedding day, you animal.”
Rafael’s smile is slow and cold and absolutely devastating. “Then I’m just in time.”
I find my voice somewhere in the chaos of my thundering heart. “Why are you here?”
I already know the answer, but the damsel in distress part of my heart wants to hear the words.
He turns those dark eyes on me, and the intensity of his gaze makes my knees threaten to buckle beneath me. “Your wish is my command, my little dove.”
I can’t keep the massive wave of heat out of my cheeks.
Black eyes turn on me. “You did this, girl?” My father turns a blustering scowl on me. “You? You went against my command?”
My gut wrenches as I see his fingers curl into fists.
“You’ll want to direct yourself to me, Fiore. My fiancee will no longer be forced to suffer under your abuse.”
Rafael reaches into his jacket and produces a folded piece of white silk that I recognize immediately—the torn hem of my engagement dress, covered in my desperate words written in red lip liner.
Crap. This can not be happening. I mean, yeah I wrote it, but having it put out there that I will pay with my virginity for a wish is kind of embarrassing.
He brings it to his nose and inhales deeply, and then he winks at me with such casual confidence that I feel heat flood my cheeks despite the absolute insanity of this moment.
He kept it. He read it. He came for me.
I guess that also means he knows my real name. Well, duh. I swear, if I wasn’t afraid of being splashed on the tabloid papers as insane, I would laugh right now.
It’s already bad enough we are going to make the front page of every newspaper in town. As soon as the press come out of their shocked stupors, the cameras will start flashing.
Rafael raises his gun toward the vaulted ceiling and fires three shots in rapid succession, the sound deafening in the acoustic perfection of the church. Whatever guests remained scatter like startled birds, their screams echoing off the stone walls as they flee through every available exit.
Within moments, the sanctuary is empty except for us, my parents, Magnus, and the armed men who have taken control of what was supposed to be my wedding.
“Drake.”
Rafael’s voice carries the easy command of a man accustomed to absolute obedience.
