Chapter 49
49
Layne
T he scent of Valentine’s blood has my Omega brain going ballistic. Perhaps that’s the only reason I catch the smallest movement in my peripheral.
My Alpha is still on his knees, and he misses it completely. Dante is so close, I can touch him, but he, too, can’t properly see what’s happening. And Matteo is out of my reach.
I move without consciousness.
In an instant, my world narrows and my focus becomes hyper-reactive.
Vitale levels a weapon, drawn directly at Matteo.
But, somehow, I am already ahead of him by a handful of seconds.
In the weird space I’m in, I don’t feel like I’m moving. My actions are intrinsic. I flow effortlessly, thoughtlessly, driven by an insatiable need to protect.
Everything is a blur as I continue to straddle the time warp, but my awareness is sharp like glass. I open the clasp on the thigh holster for my gun. At the same time, my other hand shoves at Dante, sending him toppling into Valentine as I turn. I scream at Matteo to drop, but even before I’ve stopped yelling, I’m lining up the shot and squeezing the trigger.
Time snaps back to normal, and I’m behind Dante, the dogs snarling against my legs.
But everything inside me is still fighting and on the defensive. I shove at Dante to get him to budge, but he is unmoving.
I yell into his face. “I have to see them!”
He shakes his head, denying me.
Dante’s mouth moves, and logically, I know he’s speaking, but I can’t hear him over the consuming realization that the reason he’s not letting me look is because I was too slow.
Adrenaline floods my system, and nothing is making sense. I can’t even figure out what Dante is doing or why, when he holds his hand up to show me what he’s going to do before he wraps his hand around the back of my nape. I feel his finger settling over my scent gland before he presses firmly.
Dante switches my panic off by pressing down hard on that spot while he swamps me in his dominance. It’s so unexpected, my eyes shutter to a soft close as my panic screeches to a sharp stop. But a huge part of me trusts him, and it’s that part of me that takes over.
When I open my eyes, the world is less chaotic. He clears the panic in a settling touch, and I can finally register his blinding smile and the trouble glittering in his vibrant blue eyes. He intentionally fans his breath over my face, making his sour cherry Amaretto perfume the only thing I can smell, and if I’m honest, somehow feel. I fall against him, whining softly as his thumb trails over my scent gland.
“You, my darling wife, are fucking incredible,” he says with a laugh, dipping in to brush his lips over mine. “Val and Matty aren’t themselves right now, so let me keep you safe, since it’s my job, while they finish their rage. Baby, I wish I could describe what I just saw.”
Dante and the dogs steer me farther away. When he starts to turn, I understand the reason he added distance.
“Oh my god,” I gasp when I see the scene for myself.
Dante bends down, chuckling in my ear. “You might not be our secret weapon anymore, Layne. But maybe these people need to know what a force to reckon with you are. Half the room is terrified of you, the other half wants to rush over and pledge their support to you.”
What he’s saying is correct—Valentine and Matteo aren’t their usual selves, but I always knew they had this level of violence inside them. And, honestly, they are beautiful in their vengeance.
My shots hit Vitale. I think a part of me was conscious of not intentionally killing him, only stopping him from possibly hurting Matteo. Vitale’s arm, where I got him, looks like a burst sausage, but it’s not the worst of his injuries anymore, and Val and Matteo are not the only people drawn closer by the lure of retribution. Death by a hundred hands is a romantic ideal that the crowd is sold on delivering.
Valentine is callous in the punishment he delivers to his grandfather. He steps back and straightens, shaking his fists, and the blood coating them flings across the floor.
The crowd bays for more.
Similarly, the blade in Matteo’s hand seems as if it has been dipped in a bucket of red. His eyes are on me, clearly concerned I’ll be disgusted or offended by what he’s been doing. I could never be anything but proud of him.
I kiss my wedding ring, and immediately, he understands the message. But that’s not surprising, considering we’ve been able to read each other so easily since the moment we met.
Valentine waves someone over to guard Vitale, then he’s prowling toward me, backing me into Dante’s waiting arms. There’s a low, foreboding snarl from Valentine before he takes my mouth with a cruel kiss full of brutal need. “ Ti lego al letto di mia moglie. Il tuo culo è mio .”
Dante translates in my ear, adding that while I’m tied to Valentine's bed and Val is owning my ass, he will be buried deep inside my cunt.
My knees wobble under their wicked promises. It’s lucky they’re both holding me, or I would have fallen into a puddle in front of everyone.
Valentine takes another kiss, but it gets harder when he scents the blossoming of my arousal.
“Go finish,” Dante barks at his brother. “We’ve still got fucking Diego to go, and probably fucking dessert with everyone before I can fuck my wife the way she needs, because of you, Valentine!”
Valentine pulls back, his blue eyes full of a need that mirrors my own, making him look angry. “Matty will deal with our wife’s greedy pussy while we finish here.”
“I’m good with that,” I interrupt, earning more growls from the twins.
Valentine’s incredulous look twists into a filthy smile when my words register, making both Dante and I laugh. Wrong place and time to be giggling with my Alphas in the middle of a massacre, but this thing of ours? It’s ours.
Dipping down, Valentine snaps his teeth over the spot his bite will sit before walking back. Matteo stands next to Valentine but keeps the barrel of his gun pressed against his father’s head.
Valentine twists the ring on his finger—his wedding band—before he addresses our guests again. “The De Lucas have risen.”
The room erupts into celebration.
Most of it is real, but I notice those in the room who are obviously faking.
My husband puts the fear in those fake-ass rats with a viciously cold look and a handful of words. “There will be no period of mourning for the fall of Gambrillo. And our first task is dealing with the murder of our parents. My pack has elected to give those involved a grace period of twenty-four hours for you to get your affairs in order. We offer a swift death to any person who surrenders. If you choose not to surrender, say your goodbyes, because we have a list of those who were involved. If you take the coward's way out, do so knowing we will take our revenge on whoever we choose in your family.”
Valentine grabs a napkin from the table where we were sitting and wipes his hand. Once he’s slightly cleaner, he waves at the guards waiting at the entrance doors. They disappear for a few moments, returning with a very worse for wear Diego and Rosa.
It would take too long to list their injuries, but it’s clear to see my pack stayed true to their heritage in how they delivered their revenge on their enemies. Valentine and Matteo swing chairs around for them, next to Vitale.
There’s no real need for either of them to be restrained so they don’t escape; honestly, I think Rosa is nearly dead. Leon uses the rope to tie them, so they don’t fall to the floor.
Valentine dumps a glass of water over Diego’s head to wake him up, and it works, but he’s disorientated. He’s also got bloody stubs for hands now.
“Diego has been harboring relations with the Petrov Bratva, which is shameful in itself. But Diego sealed his seat at my fucking table today when he arranged for my wife to be taken. And that shit does not fly with me. You so much as look at my wife wrong, and I will gut you. Rosa is sitting up here for that very reason.” Valentine holds the audience captive with his callous energy, and then his gaze flashes toward me before he fires shot after shot after shot into Rosa’s stomach, doing what he promised he would do.
Vitale and Diego cower when Valentine walks to stand behind them, but he’s not finished dealing with Rosa. He nabs a fistful of her hair and drags her, chair and all, past people sitting, down to a side door that Legos opens for Valentine to chuck her out like the trash she is.
Snatching another napkin from a table as he walks back, he wipes his hands of her. He looks at me, his blue eyes dark and intimidating, like the depths of the ocean, as he makes his way toward me. Except, he diverts at the last moment, as if he forgot something, but I saw the malicious smile on his lips and the flicker of movement in his eyes. When he stops beside Claudia, I’m not surprised.
“You show up wearing a blue dress? At my wife’s wedding dinner?” Valentine shakes his head in disbelief.
She stands up, smiling. I can’t hear her excuses, but I see her lack of remorse as she tries to pass him a small gift bag from Belmondo. He takes a step away, but she follows, reaching out to touch him.
And my husband's patience snaps. He slaps her hand away, and she reacts theatrically, pretending he pushed her. There are loud, ugly groans from those closest, but Claudia ignores the warnings of everyone around her. She keeps up the act, reaching for him, but Valentine growls at her to stand, using the might of his Alpha. I can feel the press of his bark from here. She can’t ignore his command, but she keeps begging and pleading. It falls on deaf, furious ears. Valentine walks her back to the door he just used and silences her with a shot through her forehead.
Okay, maybe Valentine is freaking me out a bit.
Dante presses his thumb over that special spot on the side of my neck again, owning me with another touch before he talks into my ear. “He will always be like this when it comes to you. Valentine’s love is vicious because it cuts him so deep.”
“I’m not afraid,” I say, rubbing my face against Dante’s, needing more of his bitter almond and sour cherry scent. Honestly, I all but inhale him, like taking a shot of liquor for courage. Dante’s Amaretto scent tames the bites of Valentine’s designation when my husband walks up to me to kiss me again in front of everyone.
“Did I tell you how alive and free you make me feel?” Valentine asks nearly mournfully. His question and emotion are so left of center, but it’s so quintessentially Valentine in all his dark glory.
I wrap my hands around his face, kissing him with the desperation he brings to every part of me.
As quickly as he appeared, he goes again, but it’s only to trade places with Matteo as Valentine, the ringmaster in the chaotic and bloody arena, takes center stage again.
He digs his phone out of his pocket and holds up a finger to silence the crowd while a call rings.
“ Kto eto ?” a man barks.
Instantly, the accent triggers a memory, but Valentine’s gaze is holding me to him in the moment. He’s not letting me slip back to memories of being abducted.
“There will be payback for you abducting my wife.” Valentine’s response is vicious, and he weaves a dark promise of violence into the warning.
“You threaten the Pakhan of the Petrov Bratva?” The man laughs, and it’s abrasive, malicious.
“I don’t do threats.”
The head of the Russian Mafia laughs again. “I know so many things. Sleep well with a knife under your pillow. Yes?”
“Diego might have been sharing secrets with you, but not anymore. We have no interest in working with you, now or in the future. We will never forgive or forget what you have done to our family. You are scum in our eyes, and whatever you were scheming is dead. Like Diego. I will burn your businesses to the ground. Any of your Sovetnik or Boyevik who are found in my city will be returned to you. But like your businesses, they will be nothing more than ash.”
“For what? A woman?”
Then it’s Valentine’s turn to laugh. It doesn’t sound like him at all. “Not just any woman. My woman. I’ll start a war for her.”
The Pakhan’s anger echoes through the room as he yells at Valentine in Russian, but my husband cuts the call, looking completely at peace with himself.
His lack of fear blazes like the Sirius star in the night sky. His aura continues to shimmer brighter while he burns through the shackles holding him back as he becomes who he was born to be—a leader. A strong leader, who will be violent and calculated when needed.
Valentine looks over the room, a triumphant smirk on his face as a “Don De Luca!” chant starts and sweeps through the space. He drops the smirk when he looks at me, his eyes full of dangerous promises and smoldering devotion.
I stagger under the weight of his attention, along with the rising press of all the other Alphas in the room.
“Come on,” Matteo says, holding his hand out for me.
“What? Where are we going? I’m fine here.” And I am. The atmosphere is heady and weighted, but I can handle it.
Dante turns me so I’m facing him, then kisses the argument off my lips. His desperation is as wild as his brother’s, but it’s different too. “Go with Matty. Everything important is now done. All we’re going to do is make sure people understand the De Lucas are not here for fun.” He kisses his way up to my ear. “Plus, Matty needs what only you can provide. He needs his wife coming on his dick.”
“Perfect dick,” Matteo corrects before shrugging when I swing around to him again.
The look on Matteo’s face is completely lacking in remorse, and his eyes are glittering with dare and sweet longing.
As if I would or could ever deny him. Except, I do need to let them both know something.
“I haven’t had any suppressors since Valentine threw them out. And it seems whenever I watch you do pretty much anything, it turns me on.”
Dante laughs so loud, it’s as obscene as the violence and death I’ve been turned on by. “Jesus, baby, you are so right for us, it scares me. Let Matty go fuck you somewhere for the world to see. Valentine and I will be here until this time tomorrow. Hopefully, by then, I’ll walk out of the elevator, and your slick will be gushing out your sweet pussy and you’ll be begging for my knot.”
I throw a hand up, getting overly sassy in my buzzing joy. “Wow. I should have negotiated harder when I agreed to be your wife, because that just doesn’t sound like my ultimate fantasy at all. But I guess if Matteo and Valentine join us, I could be swayed.”
Both he and Matteo laugh.
“I’ll tell Valentine what you said. Get out of here.” Dante growls as his hand cups and squeezes my breast, eliciting a moan from me, despite how hard I fight not to make a sound.