Cassandra
“Marco and I will go out first, then you two make a run for it,” Nico says as the four of us gather by the door.
I grip my weapon close to my chest. Dominic has his by his side, ready to draw as soon as we cross the threshold into the hallway.
“We’re ready,” he says, catching my eye with a look so determined, I have no choice but to agree.
“On the count of three,” Nico says as Marco grips the doorknob. “One, two, three!”
Marco rushes out with Nico. They take a defensive position, guns drawn and aimed toward the far stairwell.
Dominic doesn’t hesitate, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into the hall.
With his sidearm raised, he leads me toward safety. I run behind him, my feet covered by my thin stockings as I ditched my heels in the suite.
We’re steps from the unoccupied stairwell when chaos erupts.
A series of gunshots has Dominic pushing my torso down and shielding me with his body as he propels me forward.
“Two men down,” Marco shouts before continuing to fire.
Dominic doesn’t pause to check on his brother and cousin as he tosses me into the stairwell and slams the door shut behind us.
“Go!” He pushes on my lower back, coaxing me up the stairs, as if I needed direction.
My heart thuds, adrenaline spiking in my veins.
As we race up the stairs, a feeling of dread builds in my bones.
I’ve been shot at, kidnapped, stalked, and caught in a fire, but somehow this time, knowing that Dominic is trapped with me, I struggle to find blind faith in our ability to come out unscathed. I stumble, catching my shin on the edge of a step as a tear slides down my cheek.
Dominic turns, brows dipped. When he sees my expression, his features soften, and he stops to join me at my level.
“Cassandra,” he says, gripping my face in his hands—the metal from his gun pressing into one of my cheeks. “We’re going to get out of this.”
I shake my head, desperately wanting to believe him, but unable to see a clear path in which we win this fight.
“Remember our vows?” He leans down so that we’re eye to eye. “It’s us against the world, side by side, ready to defeat any adversary we cross. We can win this war, Cassandra. We will win this war.”
I take a shuddering breath and blink away my tears.
“If nothing else"—I lick my lips—“we have to fight.”
Dominic’s smile is blinding before he presses his lips against mine.
“Have faith, bellissima,” he says. “We have an army and our allies behind us. We will end our enemies once and for all.”
I grasp Dominic’s arms, squeezing the flexed muscle.
He grins and drops his hands, reaching out to grab one of mine. As he turns to continue our trek to the top floor, the door on the landing above us slams open.
Dominic draws his gun, pushing me behind him. I mimic his actions, raising my weapon but crouching low.
At the top of the landing, two figures freeze. The first scoffs while the second lets out an amused chuckle.
“While I appreciate you protecting my daughter, Tariello, I’d prefer that you drop your weapon.” Amusement sparks in my father’s eyes as he spots me stationed behind my husband.
“Oh, my God, Dad!” I rush forward and throw my arms around my father as Dominic lowers his gun.
“I’m glad we found you,” Victor Cortez says from my father’s side. “Jonathon was about to bust down every door in the hotel until he knew his little girl was safe.”
“We were hiding out with Nico in the honeymoon suite,” Dominic explains. “But a group of Bratva-cartel soldiers infiltrated that floor. Marco and Nico are holding them off, but I don’t know how long the two of them can handle a group by themselves.”
“Then we’ll go help them,” Victor says, descending the stairwell.
Releasing me to follow, my father turns to Dominic. “Where are you headed?”
“The top floor,” Dominic says. “We were told it’s clear.”
My father grunts, eyes squinting. “Yes and no. The Bratva-cartel soldiers are gone; well, most of them have left the Earth permanently, but we lost sight of Anatoliy.”
“Do you think he’s still up there?” I ask.
“Maybe.” My father’s eyes cut between Dominic and me. “Although I’ll be surprised if his crew left him unprotected.”
“Leo is sending us backup,” Dominic says, squeezing my hand. “We’ll find a spot to hunker down out of sight.”
My father nods, his expression wary. “Dominic, there’s one more thing you should know. Perez isn’t here. My counterparts in Boston pegged him in Miami earlier today. We think he was meeting with Santos.”
“But he sent his men . . .” Understanding flashes across Dominic’s features. “He’s running things from afar.”
My father’s lips quirk in a wry smile. Even if we take down one enemy today, another will linger in the background.
“Well, then.” Dominic tsks. “I guess we’ll have to make sure we wipe out his men and leave his organization floundering.”
My father chuckles as gunshots ring out from the floor below.
“I’d better go help them,” he says with a nod. “Keep her safe.” He points in my direction as Dominic promises he will.
With a quick goodbye, Dominic and I are rushing up the stairs.
Within a minute, we are perched behind a door that leads to the terrace on the top floor.
“You ready?” Dominic asks, holding me against the wall so I’ll be out of sight when he steps through the doorway.
“Whenever you are.” I blow him a kiss, feigning a bravado I wish I had.
With a deep breath and set jaw, Dominic passes through to the terrace, clearing the space before motioning me forward.
Walking along the perimeter, we take careful steps. While the walls of the ceremony room are transparent glass, the afternoon sun hits them at an unfortunate angle, nearly blinding us with its reflection.
“Get low,” Dominic instructs as we inch closer to the entrance. We pause, using a potted plant for cover. “I’m going in first, if something happens—”
My eyes slip closed as I push away the image of something happening. “Run. I know.”
He gives a single nod before creeping past the plant and into the room. I wait with bated breath for the sound of an altercation. The silence that greets me gives beautiful relief.
“You can come out,” Dominic whispers. I follow his instruction and pad carefully past a shattered windowpane.
I gasp as I join Dominic’s side.
What was our elegant ceremony space less than an hour ago is now a war zone.
Bodies riddled with bullet holes are littered throughout the room.
Splatters of crimson cover the pale petals on my floral decor.
Red liquid pools on the aisle runner that my father walked me down.
From the ceiling, a chandelier hangs crooked, and shattered crystals congregate on the floor below.
“Oh, my God.” I clasp my gun to my chest with both hands as if the steel will bring me comfort.
“Jesus Christ,” Dominic mutters as he begins making his way around the sea of bodies. His face contorts as he recognizes one of his men. He takes a moment to lean down and close the soldier’s lifeless eyes.
I choke back tears as I pass the faces of the fallen. Yes, many were here to see to the demise of myself, my husband, and my family, but some gave their lives to defend us. I don’t know how to accept the concept of them trading their life for mine.
“Don’t look,” Dominic says, reaching under my chin and lifting so that my eyes make contact with the blood-splattered walls instead of blood-splattered faces.
He does his best to lead me around the massacre, but it’s impossible to protect my dress from the carnage.
I can feel the fabric pulling as it catches on limbs and drags through thick puddles of blood.
I hiss when the ball of my foot lands in liquid.
Dominic curses and lifts me out of the offending substance.
It doesn’t prevent me from leaving bloody footprints in my wake.
At the back entrance to the room, Dominic lifts me bridal style to carry me past and over the collection of bodies piled there.
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles from my chest. “What a fitting way to observe the tradition of carrying the bride over the threshold,” I snark.
Dominic blinks in shock at my dark humor before bursting into laughter.
“Welcome to the Mafia, Cassandra Tariello,” he whispers in my ear. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
When we’re finally free of the horror from the initial battle, Dominic places me on my feet.
We’re in the center of the top floor, near the elevator banks but away from both stairwells. Dominic looks from side to side, gun lowered.
“Where do we go now?” I ask, glancing down and scowling at the hem of my dress, which is soaked in blood.
“There’s a catering kitchen down the hall,” Dominic says. “We can probably find a spot there to hide until we have backup.”
“Let’s go.”
Hand in hand, we follow the hall toward nondescript double doors at the end. Dominic pushes through, leading us into a stark room lined with stainless steel counters and appliances, with an epoxy floor.
As the doors shut behind us, I halt mid-stride.
“Dominic,” I hiss, pushing into his side and pointing at the floor.
In front of us is a line of blood. It’s smeared across the floor as if someone was dragging an injured limb.
“Fuck.” With his weapon raised, Dominic steers me behind him as he takes measured steps farther into the kitchen.
At the end of an island, the blood trail makes a sharp left, indicating that whoever came through is likely still waiting on the other side.
Dominic points toward the ground by his side, ordering me to get low. I listen, gripping my weapon, ready to shoot. I situate myself so my gun is aimed over the counter, the top of my head barely visible.
Dominic peeks over the island, checking for more blood on the opposite side. He shakes his head. Whoever we’re dealing with is hunkered down at the end.
Aiming his gun, Dominic takes a defensive stance, ready to shoot. “Whoever is fucking there, give up your weapon. I might let you live if you’re willing to talk.”
A deep, menacing chuckle echoes through the kitchen, followed by a choking cough.
Dominic tenses as I grip the handle of my gun tighter.