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He starts to stand up, pulling his phone out of his pocket, and fear turns to panic at the thought of him having me drugged again. “Pyotr—no. Don’t let them drug me.” My voice is pleading now, and I hate it, but this is about more than me. My baby matters more than my pride.
Pyotr turns sharply back to me, his eyes narrowing. “Why, Gia?” There’s a sudden, dangerous edge to his voice, and my heart beats harder, fear making it hard to think.
It could make it worse to tell him. Or maybe there’s some small part of him that will balk at hurting a child. Maybe he won’t want to, if only to use it as blackmail against Salvatore.
“I’m pregnant.” My voice is small, shaking, all of my defiance gone. I want to fight, but I’m so scared. Everything that I never knew I needed to fear is happening, and I wish I had believed Salvatore sooner. I wish I had never said yes to Pyotr in the first place.
I wish I were home.
Pyotr’s eyes go dark with anger, and I feel myself starting to tremble. My arms are numb, but the rest of me is shaking as I stare at him, terrified of what happens next.
He crosses the room to me in two quick strides, the back of his hand striking me across the face before I even realize what’s happening. My head snaps to one side, and I taste blood on my lip.
“Whore,” he snarls. “You can forget what I offered you, shlyukha. I don’t want that used cunt of yours.”
His fingers grab my chin, yanking my head back around to face him. “But someone else will. I’ll sell you both, you and the baby. Traffic you like the mafia slut you are. How does that sound, suka?”
I don’t know what he’s calling me, but I can hear the venom in his voice, and I know it’s nothing good. He jerks his hand away from my face, hatred in his eyes, and shouts something in Russian. A moment later, the door opens, and a bulky man with a small black leather case in his hand steps in.
Fear jolts through me, but I tilt my chin up despite it, glaring at Pyotr. “Salvatore will come for me,” I tell him, forcing defiance into my voice. “He won’t let you do this.”
Pyotr chuckles, but there’s no mirth in it. “Salvatore is dead,” he says flatly. “Your future is mine now, suka. And I decide what happens to you.”
My heart drops, that nausea welling up all over again as Pyotr walks past the man without a backward glance. The man unzips the case, taking out a syringe, and tears burn behind my eyes.
I won’t believe it. I won’t. Pyotr can say Salvatore is dead all he likes, but that doesn’t mean he’s telling the truth.
I have to believe that there’s still hope. That if Salvatore would interrupt my wedding to storm the altar and take me for his own, there’s nothing that can stand between him and saving me again.
I close my eyes and grit my teeth as the needle touches my skin, holding tight to that—to the only shred of hope that I and my baby have left.
That Salvatore will come for us, before it’s too late.
Salvatore
The moment Gia is dragged away from me, I feel something snap inside.
Her hand slips out of mine, and I turn to see a black-garbed Bratva man yanking her back, dragging her towards the flood of Bratva goons pouring in from the left side of the church. My immediate instinct is to go after her, and I spin, reaching for her as I try to dart after the man taking her away from me.
But the crowd separates us, and all I can do is hear her scream.
My hand goes automatically to where I’d have a gun, if I were carrying a weapon. But I’m not. This was supposed to be a wedding, and I’m unarmed. I can see my security, but they’re fighting their way through the crowd, guests panicking in an effort to get out of the church.
It’s utter madness. A woman is on the floor, her arm broken after someone stepped on her in an effort to get out. I hear children crying, the screams of other guests. And over it all, I still hear Gia.
Gunshots ring through the church, and a body drops inches away from me—one of the Bratva. On pure instinct, I grab his gun, my head pounding and adrenaline flooding me, and I charge in the direction where Gia was taken. One of the Bratva tries to cut me off, and I pull the trigger.
He drops, blood pouring from the bullet hole in his throat.
It feels like everything is moving in slow motion around me. My finger compresses the trigger, again and again, pushing my way through the Bratva that tries to stop me. My ears are ringing, my nose burning with the acrid scent of the gun. I hear Josef shouting for me as I stare at the open door they dragged Gia through, and spin around, looking at his pale face.
“What?” I shout at him, and he grabs my arm, shaking me. It’s enough to jolt me. I’m Josef’s boss, and he’s never touched me like that. He’d never grab me. But his expression is frantic.
“They saw the direction they took Gia. Some of our guys. Come on. Let’s go!”
He shouts it all at me, and I nod, my heart in my throat as I follow him. All I can think about is the panicked look on her face, the terror in her voice, the sight of her being taken away from me. After everything, losing her is unthinkable. I can’t even stop to think about what Igor did, this fresh betrayal and the future consequences of it or the fact that this was undoubtedly planned, because all I can think about is getting Gia back.
The church is swarming with Bratva, the rattle of gunfire filling the air, the scent of blood thick. Josef and my security move around me, charging forward as they cut down any Bratva man who tries to get in our way, clearing a path towards the door. One of Igor’s men pushes through mine, and I pull the trigger again, dropping him in his tracks as my men charge forward over his body. I drop the empty gun, bending to grab a fresh one off of the dead man, and my foot nearly slips in a puddle of blood.
