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1
BELLA
Then everyone you love will die.
Igor’s voice keeps ringing in my ears, repeating over and over. A threat that I have no reason to doubt he’ll follow through on. This is a man who ordered a church full of people locked inside to be murdered—mafia families, not only the men, but their wives and children, all there to attend my wedding.
I learned that day, that time slows down when your world is falling apart. That for a moment, everything is in sharp relief, every word and action crystallizing until suddenly it all comes crashing violently down, like an implosion. I remember every terrifying second of that day. I wish I didn’t.
And now, it’s happening again.
It feels like time slows down again. I hear Igor tell Gabriel to give me to him. To return me to the Bratva for retribution, and then Gabriel and his family will be left alone. I hear Gabriel’s refusal. Igor’s threat. And terror washes through me, cold and sharp, slicing at me until I feel weak with it, like I’m bleeding out.
I can feel my hands trembling. My lips, too. Memories crowding back in of that day, of rough hands on me, of masculine fingers groping me in places they shouldn’t, of promises that were actually threats. Bets were placed on whether or not the Bratva soldiers would get to use me once Pyotr was finished with me.
Pyotr is dead. But his father isn’t, and I’m an easy target for his anger. For his revenge.
Gabriel looks at me, and I shake my head. “Bella—” His voice is a warning, shaped like my name. He knows what I’m thinking, what I’m going to do. He knows me, because for a very brief time, we’ve been lovers. That ended this morning. But my feelings for him and his family, I’ve come to feel that I’m a part of, haven’t.
Igor looks at me, a cruel smile on his lips. He’s enjoying this, and that makes me hate him even more.
“You’re not going to kill children,” I tell him evenly, trying to keep the fear and hate out of my voice. To keep my nerve, so that maybe I can keep all of this from falling apart completely. “Let them go, Igor. Let Agnes take them upstairs.” I want Gabriel out of this, too, but we’ll get to that. Right now, all I can think about are Cecelia and Danny, cowering behind me in the kitchen chairs. They’re both crying—choked, frightened, sniffling sobs that rip through my heart with each one. Regardless of how this plays out, they’re going to remember this forever. I know how trauma like this sinks in, how it turns a person into a shell of themselves, how it colors everything they think and feel and do afterward. I don’t want that for them. But to some extent, it’s unavoidable, now. And the longer this goes on, the longer they’re sitting here afraid, the worse it will be.
Igor chuckles. “Is that really what you think, Bella? That I wouldn’t make an example out of a couple of brats? They’re nothing to me. Everyone in this room—” he makes a sweeping gesture, encapsulating the children, Gabriel, and Agnes, “—are nothing to me. Except you, Bella D’Amelio. So if you come with me, I’ll let them live.”
I don’t know whether to believe him or not. Igor is a cruel man, the cruelest I’ve ever known. I could agree to go with him, only for him to tell his men to slaughter everyone immediately after. But if I don’t?—
I look at Gabriel, his mouth set in a thin line, eyes blazing angry fire, every muscle in his body wound tight. I can see him looking at the room, gauging the odds, what happens if he fights back. Wondering where his security is. But I know he sees the same thing I do. Too many men with weapons, when we have none. Men who will kill Cecelia and Danny first, on Igor’s orders. And Gabriel can’t risk that.
Agnes is sitting ramrod straight in her chair, a gun still held to the back of her head. Her wrinkled face is paper-white, her hands knotted in her lap, her eyes fixed forward on the children. Occasionally, I see them flick towards the window, and I know what she’s thinking. She’s wondering where her husband, Aldo, is. If the Bratva men who went after Gabriel’s security that were patrolling the estate have killed him, too. Or if, at any moment, he’ll walk in and be in the same danger that we’re all in.
I level my gaze at Igor, and I can’t help the fine tremor that runs through my voice. I grip the sides of the chair I’m sitting in, feeling the edges of the cold wood biting into my fingers, grounding myself. I glare at him, speaking carefully. Focusing only on him, so that I don’t fall apart.
“None of what happened was my fault.” I swallow hard, forcing each word out. “Everything that happened that day was because of the decisions that you made, and that your son made, and decisions that were made for me. I would never have married Pyotr of my own free will. And everything that happened after that was because of others. If you want to be angry with someone—” my voice rises, tense, shaking a little with the anger pushing at my ribs and crawling up into my throat, “—then go after the don. Hell, Igor, go after my father. But none of this was my doing.”
I half expected Igor to interrupt me. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word, until I’m finished. That cruel smile is still on his lips, never faltering, and he tilts his head as I stop speaking, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I like your fire,” he says smoothly. “I had other plans for you, Bella. But now I think I might have changed my mind. I think I might keep you for myself, instead.”
“You fucking bastard!” Gabriel explodes, lunging forward, and one of Igor’s men strikes out instantly, hitting Gabriel in the cheek with the side of his gun. I cry out instinctively, covering my mouth with one hand, as blood starts to drip down the side of Gabriel’s face.
“Daddy!” Cecelia screams, leaping up from her chair, and I grab her, holding her close against me. I see out of the corner of my eye that Danny has balled himself up, his forehead pressed to his knees, rocking back and forth as he cries.
“Sit down, Cecelia,” I whisper, guiding her back to her chair. “Please sit. It’s going to be okay. Just sit down, alright? This will all be over soon.”
“It will be, one way or another. Mr. Esposito?” Igor turns, raising one iron-grey eyebrow at Gabriel. “What will it be? Will you continue to defy me? Or will I leave here with Bella?”
“You’re not fucking touching her,” Gabriel spits, wiping a sleeve along the side of his face. “And defy you? I don’t answer to you, you Russian bastard. I don’t answer to anyone. My business is my own.”
The cold, furious violence in his voice is something I’ve never heard from Gabriel before. The sweet, tender man that I’m used to is taut with an anger I’ve never seen, a man ready to fight for his family, trying to decide how to best do that without getting them killed instead. And I can see that helplessness behind the anger in his eyes, the knowledge that his defiance and his refusal to bend will end in tragedy.
I can’t stand seeing it. After everything he’s done for me—everything we’ve done together, the knowledge that this is what it’s come to…that Gabriel and his family are here, in this position because of me, tears me apart.
I have to put an end to it. It doesn’t matter what happens to me—I can’t let anything more happen to them.
Everything after Gabriel refuses again happens fast—too fast. The man who pistol-whipped Gabriel shoves him to his knees, the gun pressed to Gabriel’s temple. Cecelia screams again behind me, and one of the men shoves past me to grab her, at the same moment that the one holding a gun to Agnes’ head shoves her out of the chair. She turns, spitting at him, and he backhands her across the face, hard. She crumples to the tile with a cry, and I feel myself trembling, knowing there’s only one way to stop this.
“I’ll go!” I almost shout it, stepping forward, only a few inches from Igor. I’m shaking all over now, terrified at the idea of going with him, but I can’t watch almost everyone that I care about die around me.
