Forceful God (Kings Of Mafia #7)

Chapter 1

Sienna

Sitting at a table in Gabriella’s, one of the Falcos’ restaurants, I glance around the crowded room.

The five families are gathered to celebrate my engagement to Christiano. Even though I’m surrounded by people I’ve known my entire life, anxiety buzzes in my chest.

Three months ago, Christiano stepped into the role of the capo dei capi of the Cosa Nostra. That very same day, he cornered me in the garden at his parents’ place and admitted he had feelings for me.

At first, I was apprehensive because I’m three years older than him, but since I gave him a chance, there’s been no stopping him. Honestly, dating him has been one hell of a rollercoaster ride and very overwhelming.

We haven’t slept together yet, because I asked to wait until we got engaged. That’s when Christiano proposed, and even though I said yes, I’m not sure either of us is ready for marriage.

Still, here I am, and tonight he will put his ring on my finger.

Raya, my best friend, draws my attention as she weaves through the tables to get to me.

With a wide grin on her face, she plops down in the chair beside mine and chuckles when she sees her brother flirting with a server.

“I don’t know how Georgi does it,” she says.

“Every week, there’s a new girl. I’ve stopped showing an interest in who he’s dating because they never stick around. ”

I pat her hand before my eyes sweep through the room again. “He’s having fun.”

When Uncle Damiano and Enzo walk into the restaurant and make a beeline for Aunt Gabriella, my heart beats a little faster because it means Christiano should be here as well.

The three Falco men had last-minute business to take care of, which made them thirty minutes late for the celebration.

Getting up from my seat, I tell Raya, “I’m going to greet Uncle Damiano.”

I walk toward my future in-laws, unable to keep myself from constantly glancing at the doorway, and the moment Christiano comes in, my lips curve up in a relieved smile.

Whenever he has to go to work, I’m filled with a sense of dread.

Someone might think being raised in the Cosa Nostra would make a person immune to danger and violence, but it’s not the case for me.

Every time I’m forced to watch one of the men I love get hurt, something inside me fractures beyond repair.

I’ve lived my whole life fearing the worst might happen to one of the men I care about, but since I’ve fallen in love with Christiano, that fear has grown into something crippling. I only find some relief when he’s by my side.

The instant Christiano’s eyes land on me, he stops dead in his tracks and places his hand over his heart while his eyes sweep over the light pink dress I’m wearing.

Despite the fact that he’s only twenty-two, he looks older, his muscled body shaped by hours of relentless training. He inherited his height of six-five, as well as his black hair and eyes, from his father.

The merciless expression always carved into his handsome features softens with love, and for a moment, we just stare at each other.

Even though I can see how much he cares about me, apprehension slithers around my heart.

What if this is a mistake? We’re both so young.

I glance at my family before looking at the Falcos, wondering what they would do if I called off the engagement. Everyone is smiling, and laughter fills the air as my gaze lands on Christiano again.

The corner of his mouth lifts, and when he begins to walk toward me, the tension eases in my chest.

I love him. More than I’ve loved anything in my short life. It’s both exhilarating and scary.

I’m just nervous because he’s so intense and a lot will be expected of me as his wife.

“Everyone down!” Nico, the head of security for the Falco family, shouts by the doorway. “The Irish!”

I have no time to process the warning, chills rushing over my skin. My eyes widen a fraction, my body freezing on the spot. The noise of chairs and tables being toppled over as everyone drops to the floor fills the air.

“Sienna!” I hear Augusto roar while Christiano breaks out into a run.

His features are cut from stone, and shoving a table out of the way, he lunges at me. Just as his arm wraps around my waist and my feet leave the floor, bullets shatter the windows and screams fill the air.

“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.

It’s all I can think of, and I don’t hear anything Augusto and Lorenzo say.

When the SUV comes to a screeching stop, it feels like I’m having an out-of-body experience as my brother helps me out of the vehicle and ushers me into the hospital.

I’m bombarded with the image of injured guards who are being treated in the hallway and every available room.

“Fuck,” Lorenzo calls out. “Dad, are you okay?”

Seeing Uncle Milo gripping his side, blood seeping through his fingers, I’m dealt another blow.

I’ve known Uncle Milo all my life.

Breaths saw over my dry lips as my heart breaks.

Augusto leaves me to check on our beloved uncle, and as I slowly walk farther down the hallway, my body trembles severely. My movements are jerky, and as I turn my head to the left, I see Simone, who’s a nurse, pulling a white sheet over someone.

My eyes land on the cream-colored jacket Christiano was wearing that’s lying on the floor beside the bed, and as the shock hits, I sway on my feet.

The next instant, I’m dragged down to the pits of hell as unbearable devastation pulverises my heart, and soon after, rapid waves of chaotic emotions threaten to drown me in darkness.

“No,” I gasp, my face crumpling. “God, don’t do this to me.”

He can’t be dead.

Walking into the room, I start to shake my head. Simone rushes past me so she can help someone else, and when I crouch to pick up the jacket, panic flays my soul raw.

The meager sense of safety I’ve had growing up in the Cosa Nostra evaporates, and the brutal world I’m a part of closes in around me.

An intense need for Christiano to come back grows and grows until it drives me over the edge, and I sink to my knees.

Inside of me, there’s a relentless longing and deep sorrow, while on the outside, I can only stare at the jacket in my hands. My thumb brushes over the blood that’s still wet.

Christiano.

Having lost all sense of time or where I am, I can only stare at the jacket.

Suddenly, I’m grabbed by my shoulders and pulled back to my feet. When Augusto says something, I can’t make out his words because it sounds like I’m underwater.

Even though people are rushing around the hospital, it feels like I’m moving in slow motion as Augusto leads me somewhere.

Time warps even more until my breathing begins to slow down. The ruthless sharpness of the grief swirling in my soul lessens slightly, and a heavy, floating sensation creeps through my mind.