Chapter 14
Gia lands at our table like a hurricane in heels. “Hi!” she chirps, sliding right into the conversation like she’s been invited.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Gia. Why are you here?”
She beams, unapologetic. “I’m on a date.”
My head snaps toward the table she came from. A man sits there — young, tan, dressed too nicely, hair slicked back. He lifts his glass in a pathetic little salute. Instantly, every instinct I have goes high alert.
My eyes cut to Nico.
Nico is already staring at the guy like he’s mentally calculating burial sites.
“Don’t worry,” Gia says, rolling her eyes. “Nico’s been glaring at him like that all night.”
She gestures casually behind her. Sure enough, the poor bastard is shifting in his seat, face paling each time Nico glances over.
“Gia,” I growl, “if that man breathes wrong—”
“Oh please.” She waves her hand. “Nico already threatened him. Twice.”
Nico, without looking at us, murmurs, “Three times.”
Gia pats his chest affectionately. “See? He’s got it under control.”
I swear I can feel a migraine forming. But then—
Elena laughs. Not a small laugh. Not a nervous one. A real one. Soft and warm and melodic. Like she’s letting herself enjoy something without fear for the first time.
I turn and look at her— really look at her. The dress. The flush in her cheeks. The shine in her eyes. And that laugh. It hits me like a fist to the ribs. I want to hear it again. And again. And again.
Gia leans her elbows on the table, grinning. “We had the BEST time today. Watching her discover stuff she likes? Literal magic.”
Elena blushes, looking down, but Gia isn’t done. “And I KNEW that dress would look amazing on you,” she says proudly. “But seeing you in it? Even better.”
I don’t bother hiding the way I look at my wife now — the way the words my wife burn through my bloodstream like fire.
She glances up shyly, meeting my eyes. I feel it again— that punch to the chest. She’s breathtaking. And she’s mine.
But before I can say a damn thing—
A shift in the noise at the front of the restaurant. Not loud. Not obvious. But wrong. Too many years in this world have trained my instincts to snap before my brain does.
I go still. Nico goes still.
Rocco, from a few tables toward the front of the restaurant, rises like a ghost.
Gia blinks. “What—”
Then everything explodes. Gunfire. Two sharp bursts. People scream. Chairs scrape. Glass shatters. I don’t think.
I MOVE.
I grab Elena, yank her against me, and take her straight to the ground behind the table—my body covering hers completely, every inch of me braced to take a bullet before it touches her.
She gasps, panic flashing across her face—but she doesn’t scream. She clutches my jacket, shaking, but steady. Across from us, Nico throws himself over Gia, slamming her to the floor and shielding her with every ounce of his massive frame.
But Gia, being Gia—throws an elbow, reaches into her waistband, and pulls out a gun.
“Fucking assholes,” she snarls, aiming at the front doors.
Nico grits, “Gia, STAY DOWN—”
Too late. She’s already aiming over his shoulder.
Rocco doesn’t wait.
He’s the first to return fire—controlled bursts, not panicked, tracking the shadows by the entrance. Plates explode, lights flicker, people crawl under tables.
I see two men sprint for the exit.
Rocco takes off. No hesitation. No fear.
I surge upward, ready to follow—
But I stop. Because under me is Elena. Her breathing is ragged, her fingers gripping my shirt with desperate strength.
My wife.
My responsibility.
My life.
That thought makes me stop—slow down.
“Are you hurt?” I demand, searching her face, her arms, her body for blood. “Elena—tell me.”
“I’m okay,” she whispers. “I’m okay. Go.”
I shake my head. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to.” Her voice is steadier this time, eyes blazing with something I’ve never seen before—
Courage. Fierce, stubborn courage.
“I know who I married,” she says, gripping my shirt. “Be that man now. Go after him.”
I freeze. Because the timid girl from her father’s controlled world—the quiet, obedient bride—is telling me to go into gunfire.
To protect my men. To protect our family. To protect our name. She looks at Nico, who is still crouched over Gia with a gun in his hand.
“I’ll stay with them,” Elena says, voice trembling but firm. “I’ll be safe. I promise.”
My eyes snap to Nico. He gives me a sharp nod, voice rough. “I’ve got them.”
That’s all I need. I press a quick, fierce kiss to Elena’s lips. Her hand catches my wrist, holding me for one heartbeat.
Then I’m gone—racing after Rocco and the shooters, heat pounding in my ears, every instinct burning. Because they fired at me. Because they fired at my people. Because they fired when my wife was in the room.
And someone is going to fucking pay for that.