Page 60 of Beautiful Vows

Each shallow breath is a struggle, a battle for survival, as I fight against the darkness that threatens to consume me. A heaviness settles in my chest, but I try to focus against the suffocating grip.

“I… I… don’t…” I cough. “Know,” I rasp, my voice a strained whisper against the vice-like pressure of his arm.

“Then this should remind you.”

His arm slips from my neck, but the respite is short-lived as he moves in front of me, brandishing his phone like a weapon.

On the screen, a grainy video plays out. But I recognize it because I’ve watched it many times before.

It shows Nic Bianchi taking a young girl with dark hair down a corridor. Her face is staring at the floor, making her indistinguishable. The video shows Dante at the end of the hallway and when the door at the end of the corridor slams shut, Dante is heard making a call to me to erase some footage from the house.

“Only Cade would know how to do that,” Bianchi grunts in my ear.

“Umph!” Everything goes black.

The slap against my face jolts me back to the present. I don't know how long I was out for.

Seconds … minutes … even days.

He must have hurt himself too, as he holds his hand against his chest.

“Are you ready to talk?” His voice is a low hiss, dripping with malice as he leans in, his face mere inches from mine.

I remain silent, my jaw clenched in defiant silence. Because no matter the torture, no matter the pain, I won’t break. I won’t betray the ones I love, the ones I’ve sworn to protect. Even if that means I sacrifice myself.

“Boss, I think I just heard something outside. Do you want me to check?” one of his men asks. His voice comes from behind me. Probably the man who now has bloody fists from smashing my body.

“I have men outside. I’m sure we’d hear gunshots if we had a problem.” Bianchi tuts and leans closer to me. His hot stinking breath on my skin makes me wretch. “Don’t get your hopes up. Nobody knows who took you. Or where I brought you. The raid on the club was fucking perfect. I couldn’t have planned it better.”

I spit blood on the floor and say, “You need all the help you can get. You don’t have that kind of brain power.”

His lips curl back in a menacing snarl, but the thunderous pounding of footsteps reverberating through the silence freezes Ricardo in place, his body stills as he listens.

When gunshots rattle against the metal, Ricardo presses his gun against my temple as icy fingers crawl down my spine.

“Find out what’s going on,” he grunts at the three men still in the room. I don’t look at them. I’m staring ahead, wondering what’s happening. “Not you. You stay beside me.”

My heart leaps in my chest. Mainly hope, but a little trepidation battles there, too.

My blood races as more gunshots pop, and a bodyguard drops to the ground in front of me. A figure emerges from the shadows to my right. Mateo Conti pops out like a ghost materializing out of thin air. He lifts his hand. His movements are fast and fluid as he dispatches the other guard as he rushes toward him.

Two bodies down, two to go in here.

Romeo followed quickly behind his brother, killing the man who left me severely beaten. After him, a contingent of SWAT team members moves in, skillfully spreading out and securing the area’s perimeter with precise coordination. All guns aimed at Ricardo.

My heart skips a beat as I glimpse my brother, his hand steady, the glint of a gun reflecting in his angry eyes. He’s here. He’s found me.

Relief washes over me in a crashing wave, but a new dread takes hold. Dante has now placed himself in the cross-hairs of a psychopath. A madman who wants him dead.

Ricardo shakes, his entire frame trembling against my back as he presses the gun harder against my temple. “You...” he hisses, his voice dripping with poison. “You went against the oath. You killed another first son.”

Dante’s gaze is unnerving. “I don’t care,” he says, his answer leaving no room for argument. He squeezes the trigger on his gun. The blast reverberates in my ear before I hear a gun clatter to the floor. I realize Dante shot it out of Ricardo's grasp.

“Fuck you!” Ricardo yells as he rushes behind me, using my body as a shield.

Dante continues, “He was a piece of shit and deserved to die. But that’s not why you’re here, though, is it?”

A knowing smirk tugs at the corners of Dante’s mouth, and he pulls out his phone, his fingers dancing across the screen. “You’re not bothered that your brother died. After all, with your father dying, you’re now the head of your family. But what you want to know is who the girl is. Is she who you think she is? And if so, how powerful would she make you?”

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