Chapter 21
Echoes
THE MAESTRO | Past
My phone nearly cracks in my hand when Massimo picks up on the second ring.
“Tell me you’re calling because you finally decided not to murder anyone inside a cathedral.”
“What the fuck is going on?”
“That bad?”
“Vane knows.”
The silence turns ugly.
“What?”
“He knows enough.”
“How?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be calling you.”
My eyes never leave the pews below. Selene sits beside Hannah. Blue silk spilling around her legs. Hands folded too tightly in her lap. Like she’s trying not to shake. Like the trap is snapping shut and she doesn’t know where to run.
Massimo exhales. “That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
“I had every entrance watched.”
“Then someone inside talked.”
“Zagreus—”
“If I fail today…” My chest tightens. “…forget the woman you want found.”
“Don’t be irrational.”
“Fuck your rationality.”
I hang up. Straight to voicemail if he calls back. I shove the phone into my pocket. I walk inside the cathedral, standing in front of the priest, and every man in the room stiffens.
Most of them must be thinking why I’m marrying when my Father is in critical condition and my Mother isn’t here.
Well, none of my family members are here.
Because I can’t let anyone use them over me.
But fuck everything, Selene is here. Someone who shouldn’t be under any circumstances. It ruins everything.
The cathedral doors open, and everything turns bright. People rise, whispers echo as Crystella arrives with her Father. A parade for the damned. I’m already standing at the altar. Hands clasped behind my back. And I feel none of it.
Because Selene finally looks at me. And Christ, that expression, there’s hurt there, raw and trembling, like I reached into her chest and ruined something sacred. Maybe I did.
Maybe every choice I made became another knife.
And still, I’d make them all again. Because she’s alive.
Because she’s breathing. Because she’s fucking here.
And that matters more than forgiveness ever will.
My fingers twitch. The music swells, and Crystella appears at the far end of the aisle.
Beautiful. Ivory lace.
Long veil. Typical bride.
Diamonds at her throat.
Ronan Novak beside her with one hand over hers. The picture of a proud Father. Three hours ago, I wanted him dead. Now I’m calculating how many bullets I’ll need before the stained-glass shatters.
My gaze flicks left at Vane. He’s watching me, glass in hand, looking relaxed, like none of this concerns him. Adrian is beside him, looking tall and smug, eyes drifting to Selene far too often. And I want him bleeding.
My attention snaps right at Selene, still beside Hannah. And her Father.
That fucking woman has one hand wrapped around Selene’s wrist beneath the pew, holding her in place, like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
If a single scratch lands on Selene, I will ruin every person breathing inside this church.
Burn their names. Salt their bloodline.
Let history remember what happened here.
But all my murderous tendencies go to hell when Crystella reaches me and takes her place as Ronan kisses her forehead and steps back.
The ceremony starts, and I mute the priest in my head.
I just have to point the gun at Ronan and kill him.
Before killing Vane and Adrian, and every other Cosa Nostra member.
I can’t just shoot wildly, not while that woman has her grip on Selene. I need to think before the chaos erupts.
My hand remains steady on the grip of the weapon concealed beneath my jacket. I let the priest’s droning voice fade entirely into the background, timing my movement to the rhythm of the ceremony. The moment Ronan takes his eyes off the crowd to look at Crystella will be my window.
Ronan has to go down first. The Cosa Nostra expects power plays, but they don’t expect a suicide mission. The shockwave of his fall will buy me the three seconds of absolute panic I need.
Before the echo of the first shot can even clear, the barrel will shift.
Vane. Adrian. The rest of the Cosa Nostra leadership.
They are sitting ducks in these narrow pews, trapped by their own rigid protocol.
I will empty the magazine into the front row before their security can even clear their holsters.
Then my men can follow the rest.
I will tear through the screaming crowd, level the entire church if I have to, and pull Selene out of the ashes.
This isn’t just about a broken alliance or Cosa Nostra politics anymore.
This is about survival, retribution, and drawing a line in the sand with the blood of my enemies.
The moment they put their filthy hands on Selene to use her as leverage against me, they signed their own death warrants.
If I let them walk out of this church alive, she will forever be the bargaining chip they use to keep me on my knees.
Ronan, Vane, Adrian—they think they rule this underworld through fear and tradition.
They think the Cosa Nostra is bulletproof.
By wiping out the entire leadership in a single afternoon, I destroy the very foundation of their power structure.
I don’t just want them dead; I need the entire underworld to watch them fall.
No one will ever dare look at what is mine with greed in their eyes again.
Let the world burn. Let my name be cursed in the dark for generations to come.
They think I have something to lose, but they don’t understand.
Selene is everything. Without her, I am just a ghost with a gun.
If saving her means becoming the monster they all whisper about, then I will gladly pull the trigger and let hell follow me.
Because every few seconds I look past her, at Selene. Her breathing is uneven, her eyes shining, her hands trembling.
She knows. Or maybe she doesn’t. But she feels something.
And I feel like I’m bleeding out in real time.
The priest smiles warmly.
“Do you, Zagreus Vitale, take Crystella Maria Novak to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
And time stops. I look straight at Selene; a tear slides down her cheek, one silent silver line.
And fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
My lungs lock.
My heartbeat crashes so hard I almost stagger.
I release Crystella’s hand.
She blinks, and the priest falters. I shut my eyes and lift my chin.
My fingers tighten around the cold steel. The priest is wrapping up the opening prayers. Ronan takes a breath.
It’s time.
I slowly reach inside my jacket and pull out my gun. The collective gasp is almost amusing. No one moves except Cosa Nostra men. Their hands hovering near weapons.
Bravery.
Or stupidity. Same difference.
Ricci’s voice cuts through the uproar.
“What do you think you’re doing, boy?”
I glance at him and shrug. “Honestly?”
I cock the gun. Metal clicking loud enough to silence half the church. “I was hoping someone would ask.”
My eyes go straight to Vane, then to Adrian, then Hannah, and then Selene.
My Selene.
Frozen.
Wide-eyed.
Breathing like she forgot how. And I smile.
“One thing you all should’ve learned by now.” I take one step down from the altar. “I get what I want.”
Another step. “Whether God approves…” My gaze locks on Selene. “…or not.”
Then I point the gun directly at Ronan Novak and pull the trigger.
The bullet catches Ronan square in the chest. The impact jerks his body backward, blood spraying across the white altar cloth before he collapses like a puppet with its strings severed.
For a single heartbeat, the world freezes. Then, the dam breaks.
“Papa!”
Crystella’s voice pierces the air as she drops to her knees beside her Father’s bleeding body.
Absolute pandemonium erupts.
The Cosa Nostra’s men react, but they are already a step behind.
Heavy oak doors burst open at the back and sides of the cathedral.
My men flood the exits and the upper balconies, their automatic weapons leveled, surrounding the area in a tight, impenetrable perimeter.
The Cosa Nostra security guards freeze, caught between trying to draw their weapons and realizing they are staring down the barrels of an entire army.
Through the rising smoke and frantic cries, my eyes track only one man.
Vane.
Unlike the rest of the panicked Cosa Nostra members scrambling for cover, Vane is unfazed. He stands like a true mafia predator, radiating cold composure. He doesn’t look at Ronan’s dying body. Instead, his dark eyes lock onto me, tracking the smoking barrel of my gun.
“You should have stayed on your knees, Zagreus, I told you this will not end well,” Vane says.
Before I can adjust my aim, Vane moves and reaches down into the pew, tearing Selene out of her Mother’s grip, and yanks her violently in front of him. His arm wraps around her throat, forcing her back against his chest as he raises his gun, pressing it directly against her temple.
“Drop it,” Vane commands softly. “Or her blood coats the floor next.”
“Vane!” Her Father and Mother rush, but Vane’s men just hold them down.
My chest tightens, but I force my face to harden into a mask of indifference. I can’t let him see the terror clawing at my throat. I can’t let him know he has me cornered.
I tilt my head, forcing a cold, detached chuckle. “Do you really think she matters enough to stop me today, Vane? You think a single girl changes what I came here to do?” The lie tastes like ash in my mouth.
Except Selene doesn’t know it’s a game. At my words, the last bit of fight drains from her. She breaks down completely, a sob tearing from her throat as her tear-filled eyes lock onto mine, shattered by my apparent coldness. She believes I’m letting her go.
“Let go of my daughter, you bastard!” It’s her Father. And to be honest, I respect that man, except he doesn’t have any idea how cunning his wife is.
Now, the line is drawn. The church is split into two warring factions. Behind me, my men hold the line, weapons raised. Opposite us stand Vane, Adrian, Hannah, and the remaining Cosa Nostra guards, using the pews as barricades.
If my timing is correct, it will happen in exactly… five, four.
“Well, then, you wouldn’t mind if I kill her.” He slams the gun against her skull.
Three, two…
“Let go of her,” I growl, taking a dangerous step forward, abandoning the feigned indifference. “You won’t make it out of this building alive.”
“Neither will she,” Adrian sneers, stepping up beside Vane, his own weapon aimed straight at my chest.
“I’m only going to say it one more time,” I hiss. “Let. Her. Go.”
One.
Crack.
The bullet tears through the air, striking Vane directly in the shoulder.
He winces, his grip faltering as blood spurts from the wound. That split second is all Selene needs. She twists out of his loosened grasp, stumbling away from him onto the cold stone floor.
Chaos takes the room.
Gunfire explodes from every direction. Adrian lunges forward, his face twisted in rage as he charges directly at me, raising his weapon to take me down.
He’s fast, but I am fueled by adrenaline.
I duck beneath his swinging arm, sidestepping his line.
I catch him by the wrist, twisting it until the bone snaps, forcing him to drop his gun.
Before he can even scream, I drive my knee hard into his chest, throwing my weight into him and slamming him violently into the marble floor.
He gasps for air, completely overpowered and pinned beneath my boot.
But my victory is cut short.
Through the crossfire, I look past Adrian and see a rogue Cosa Nostra gunman breaking through the fray. His weapon is raised, his eyes locked onto Selene as she tries to crawl to safety. He’s going to clear his shot and kill her.
“Selene!” I roar.
I lift my gun, aiming past the chaotic crowd, tracing the line directly to her assailant’s chest. My finger squeezes the trigger just as the gunman moves.
But another body stumbles into the line of fire.
The bullet catches her Father instead.
He takes the hit squarely in the torso. He gasps, his eyes wide with shock as he collapses heavily to the ground, the life draining out of his eyes.
Selene freezes, staring at her Father’s lifeless body, and the scream that leaves her mouth tears right through my soul.
And I realize I’ve lost the game.