Chapter 13
SONYA
Gunshots.
It’s the only thought echoing through my mind as everything else stops, my head and back exploding with pain. My vision goes dark for a heartbeat.
More gunshots, closer this time, echoing back and forth between buildings. A scream wrenches from my throat, and I curl in on myself.
Then, it all goes quiet, except for the buzz in my ears from the noise and the blood rushing along with it. My heart is pounding so fast, I’m afraid it’s going to jump right out of my chest.
“Are you okay?”
I look up to see Matvei leaning over me, shielding me. All I can do is blink up at him, wondering how the hell he got there. I realize the pain I felt was Matvei slamming me back into the wall to protect me, the darkness his black tuxedo as he saved me.
He places his hands on either side of my face, forcing me to look him in the eye. “Sonya, are you okay?” His eyes are wide as he frantically searches my face along with the rest of me.
“I’m okay,” I manage, though I don’t know if it’s true. My gown suddenly feels too tight, like a vise, and I can’t draw enough air into my lungs.
I’m not okay. I’m shaking so hard my teeth are chattering, and I can’t get myself to stop. I can’t breathe. Sweat is pouring down my back. Tears cloud my vision.
“I can’t breathe, Matvei. I can’t breathe!”
His hands press on either side of my cheeks and he bows his head, his forehead touching mine. His warmth, his presence, his patchouli-cardamom scent envelop me.
“You’re okay, Sonya. Focus on me. Focus on my voice. Breathe.”
I do as he says, focusing on the warmth of his hands, the rumble in his voice, the protection I feel with him. Eventually, my heartbeat slows, the vice around my chest loosens, and I stop shaking.
“Are you okay?” Matvei asks again, blue eyes as intense as I’ve ever seen them. He’s still cupping my face but pulls back to examine me.
“I’m okay. I’m not hurt,” I tell him, and I mean it this time.
“There’s blood on your dress.” Matvei snarls, a tinge of panic in his tone.
I look to where he’s frantically pulling the fabric at my waist, where uneven circles of red stain the blue gown. For a moment, I think I might have been shot, but a search of the area comes up clean.
“It’s not mine.” I look up and realize there’s a stain spreading along the sleeve of Matvei’s tuxedo jacket. “Shit! You’re the one who’s hurt!”
I paw frantically until Matvei jerks back with a hiss of pain, clamping his hand down on his arm. He pulls off his jacket and peers at the sleeve of his shirt, stained bright red. “It’s just a graze. It will stop bleeding soon.”
I see the moment his mind discards any concern for his own wound and returns to my well-being. I stare up at his face, at the forbidding expression of anger tinged with concern for me, not himself.
“You saved me. You protected me.”
His face creases into a scowl. “I told you I would. I gave you my word. The contract doesn’t end until I get you home.”
“No.” I put my hand on his good arm. “You protected me with your life. You could have been seriously hurt… or worse.” I don’t want to think about the ‘or worse’ part.
Matvei didn’t have to risk his own life to protect mine. There is nothing in our contract about him dying for me, and besides, I doubt his word extends that far, no matter what he said in the hotel room in Prague.
His life was never part of our bargain.
I’m still staring at him when the sidewalk around us fills with people running and crying. Evgeny is shouting orders at men in dark suits who have seemingly come from nowhere. Sirens echo in the distance, getting closer with every heartbeat that pounds in my ears.
I wrap my arms around Matvei. There’s a second’s hesitation, or maybe surprise, before he pulls me to him, his arms strong and protective around me.
And no matter what just happened, no matter that someone was trying to kill me or that I’ve seen this dangerous man kill someone else, I still feel the safest in his arms.
“Matvei!”
Samson and Genevieve are running down the steps, along with her father, who’s shouting. “What the fuck happened?”
“You’re asking me what the fuck happened?” Matvei snarls as he pulls away to confront his brother, but not without tucking me safely under his arm, putting his bulk in between me and everyone else. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not behind this fucking attack?”
“I had nothing to do with it!” Samson snaps. “Or I wouldn’t be asking you, you fucking asshole. Why would I have someone killed at my own wedding?”
The sirens become lights dancing across the buildings around us as police cars come to a squealing stop at the curb. Evgeny, Samson, and Genevieve’s father, Rodolfo Mancini, move to greet, or rather intercept, the police.
“Stay here,” Matvei tells me quietly. As soon as he leaves, I feel cold, his absence causing a chill to my bones.
Movement to my left becomes a police officer running toward me. Kelly crashes into me, her embrace so tight I can barely breathe.
“Oh my God, are you okay? What happened? When I heard there was a shooting at the Mancini wedding, I freaked the hell out. Where were you when it happened? Oh my God, you’re hurt!”
I’m glad I know Kelly-speak, because the rush of words would probably be unintelligible to anyone else.
“I’m fine, Kelly, I promise! It’s not my blood.”
My sister stops reaching for her radio, most likely to call for an ambulance, but she doesn’t look convinced. I return the embrace, hugging her tight.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I tell her.
“You know, I didn’t join the CPD just to keep you out of trouble, Sonya. This isn’t going to be a thing, is it?” I hear Kelly’s question for what it is—concern.
“I sure as hell hope not,” I sigh. “I don’t even know what happened.”
Someone clears their throat—pointedly—and we both turn at the sound to see Matvei watching us closely.
“You’re him, aren’t you?” Kelly asks, marching up to the Bratva boss and into his personal bubble. Closer than I’ve seen anyone else get, besides myself.
“Excuse me?” Matvei replies. I can’t tell whether it’s amusement or warning in his tone.
Kelly doesn’t care and glares up at him. “You heard me. You’re the reason my sister is here. You’re the reason she’s in danger.”
Now I can see its amusement glimmering in the dark blue of his eyes. “You must be Kelly.”
My sister, however, is not amused. “Yes, I must be,” she answers flatly.
“Sonya talks about you often, and fondly. I can see how close you two are.”
Matvei’s reply isn’t what Kelly expects, and for once, my sister is brought up short without a word spilling from her mouth.
Matvei’s eyes find mine as Kelly scoffs and continues to glare at the Russian crime boss.
“Well, anyway, I need to get your statement. Yours and that giant bear over there. And Sonya, I’ll need yours, too. Do you want to come down to the station? I can take you home afterward.”
I shake my head, feeling cold again without adrenaline running through my veins or Matvei beside me. “No, I just want to get it over with. I don’t want to sit in any room.”
Kelly nods and weaves her arm through mine, giving Matvei a warning look. He offers a bemused smile as he follows us.
“Damn it. Does he really have to be so good-looking? It would make hating him on your behalf a whole lot easier.”
I have to bite back a giggle at my sister’s comment. “You don’t have to hate him, Kelly. I don’t even know what happened.” Kelly gives me a look that tells me I’m not getting it, and I drop my voice to a near-whisper. “There are a million mob guys here. There’s no way this was about me.”
Not with the heads of a bunch of Italian mob families in the building behind us. Not during the bratty princess’s wedding. Not when my escort is the head of the most powerful Russian crime syndicate in Chicago.
Kelly stays glued to my side throughout the process of taking my statement, and so does Matvei, with Evgeny not too far off, hovering around us like a shadow.
“They’re still processing the scene, but I’ve got permission to take you home,” Kelly announces.
“She’ll come with me,” Matvei steps in.
Kelly’s green eyes snap to his face, her chin raised in defiance. “Like hell she will. My sister just went through a drive-by shooting. I’m not leaving her side.”
Matvei meets her gaze, just as determined.
His voice is low and deliberate as he says, “Out of the two of us, which one do you think is the safer bet? I believe you know very well who I am and what I can provide.” It’s not exactly a threat, but it isn’t a friendly reminder, either. It’s more like an assertion.
The standoff is interrupted by voices coming from behind us, one particularly loud and full of bravado.
Rodolfo Mancini’s hands are balled into fists at his side.
He turns to the men in dark suits who surround him.
“Find out who did this,” he orders, spitting with anger.
“I want their names. I want their families’ names.
I want their heads on a platter in front of me by tomorrow morning.
I want to know who tried to ruin my daughter’s wedding! ”
Evgeny happens to be standing behind the old man, and I wonder if I’m the only one who sees him roll his eyes.
“Sonya, I’m so sorry.” Genevieve draws out the “o” as she takes my hands in hers, suddenly all concern and kindness, ignoring the look Matvei flashes at her.
“I can’t believe someone would do this! And I can’t believe they used my wedding as a cover.
This is absolutely terrible, and I’m so sorry this happened to you. ”
I offer a small smile I don’t feel and squeeze her hands before pulling mine back. I find one of Matvei’s instead to banish the feel of her touch from my skin.
“Who knows what this was about. I’m just glad no one was seriously hurt.” I look around to double check my words are valid and see no one lying on the sidewalk in a puddle of blood.