Chapter 33
Dante
The sight of blood running down Sofia's face turns my vision red.
Not metaphorically. Literally. Everything in my field of vision takes on a crimson tint, and the roar in my ears drowns out everything except the sound of my own heartbeat and the bastard's breathing.
Kieran still has the knife pressed to Sofia's throat, using her as a human shield. But all I can see is the deliberate cut on her cheek, the blood staining her white dress, the terror in her green eyes.
"Well, well," Kieran says, his voice steady despite the gun pointed at his head. "The cavalry arrives. Too bad you're too late. I've already marked what's mine."
"Let her go." My voice doesn't sound like my own. It's cold, flat, deadly.
"What are you going to do, shoot me? You might hit your precious princess." The blade presses harder against Sofia's neck, and I see her wince. "Drop the gun, or I open her throat too."
Behind me, I hear footsteps. Vito and Gianna burst into the small room, taking in the scene—Sofia pressed against the wall, bleeding, Kieran with a knife to her throat.
"Jesus Christ," Vito breathes.
Gianna moves immediately toward Sofia. "Let me help her—"
"Stay back!" Kieran snarls, the knife trembling in his grip. "Everyone stays back, or she dies right here."
I keep my gun trained on him, looking for an opening, any angle that won't risk Sofia. But he's positioned himself perfectly, using her body to shield his vitals.
"What do you want?" Vito asks, his voice carefully controlled.
"I want what was promised to our family," Kieran spits. "A Gallo bride. If I can't have her willing, I'll take her broken."
The cut on Sofia's face is still bleeding, dripping steadily onto her dress. The sight of it makes something primal and violent unfurl in my chest—something that won't be satisfied until I'm standing over his corpse.
"Okay," I say slowly, never taking my eyes off Kieran. "You win."
I start to lower my gun, and Kieran's grip on the knife loosens slightly as he leans forward to watch me set it on the floor.
The moment his attention shifts, Sofia drives her elbow back into his ribs with everything she has. The impact makes him stagger, his grip on both the knife and Sofia loosening just enough.
I move.
Two quick steps and I'm on him, my hand closing around his wrist, twisting until he drops the knife with a cry of pain. Sofia scrambles away, and Gianna immediately pulls her to safety behind Vito.
Now it's just me and Kieran, and I have fifteen years of training and a lifetime of rage on my side.
My fist connects with his jaw, and I hear something crack. He staggers backward, blood spurting from his nose.
"That's for touching her," I snarl.
He tries to swing at me, but he's slow, clumsy. I duck easily and drive my knee into his stomach. He doubles over, gasping.
"That's for cutting her."
I grab him by the hair and slam his head into the wall. The impact leaves a smear of blood on the stone.
"That's for threatening her."
"Dante." Vito's voice cuts through my rage. "Dante, stop."
I turn to look at him, my hand still fisted in Kieran's hair. Kieran is conscious but barely, blood running from multiple wounds on his face.
"You know what this means," Vito says quietly. "If you kill him here, it's war. Full-scale war with the Costellos."
I look at Sofia, safe in Gianna's arms but still bleeding, still shaking from what this bastard tried to do to her. Then I look back at Vito.
"I know."
We stare at each other for a long moment. Don and enforcer. Father and son. He's giving me a choice, and we both know what I'm going to choose.
Finally, almost imperceptibly, Vito nods.
Permission granted.
I turn back to Kieran, who's trying to focus his eyes on me through the blood and pain.
"You should have stayed away from her," I tell him conversationally.
"Go... go to hell," he gasps.
"You first."
I break his neck with a quick, efficient twist. The sound echoes in the small room like a gunshot.
Kieran Costello, heir to the Irish mob, crumples to the floor like a broken doll.
The silence that follows is deafening.
"It's done," I say, stepping away from the body.
Vito nods grimly. "It's done."
I turn to Sofia, who's watching me with wide eyes. There's no fear in her expression, just relief and something that might be pride.
"You okay, princess?"
She nods, touching the cut on her cheek gingerly. "I am now."
Gianna tears a strip of fabric from her dress and presses it to Sofia's face. "We need to get this looked at properly."
"Later," Vito says. "Right now we need to get out of here before his brothers come looking."
As if summoned by his words, shouts echo from somewhere in the cathedral. The sound of running feet, men calling Kieran's name.
"Time to go," I say, scooping Sofia up in my arms. The wedding dress is cumbersome, but she weighs nothing. "Can you walk?"
"I can walk," she says, but makes no move to get down from my arms. "But this is nice too."
Despite everything—the blood, the violence, the war we've just started—I find myself smiling.
"Then I'll carry you out of here, Mrs. Not-Costello."
"I like the sound of that," she murmurs against my neck.
Vito leads us out through a side exit, away from the main cathedral where gunfire still echoes. As we emerge into the afternoon sunlight, I can hear sirens in the distance.
"Marco's got the cars ready," Vito says. "We'll be gone before the cops arrive."
I look back at the Gothic cathedral where I killed a man for the woman in my arms. No regrets. Not one.
"Ready to go home, princess?"
Sofia's hands wrap around my neck, her fingers intertwining leaving bloody smears against us both.
"With you? Always."