Page 90 of His Bride

Nicoli and I stare at each other for a long time, silent words exchanged. A mutual understanding. He knows what it’s like, how it feels when someone lays a hand on your woman. He went through it four times over with Mirabella.

His wife endured the kind of pain no woman ever should, survived the type of horrors most can’t. But she did. She came out stronger, demanded revenge on her own terms.

Fuck, I dunno how he did it. How he managed to put his own rage aside, his own bloodlust, so she could have the vengeance she needed and take it with her own two hands. Giana is out there somewhere, planning her own way out of this mess with Aurelio, and I’m losing my mind being here instead of out there protecting her.

Nicoli’s eyes are hard, flinty under the room's low light. He crushes out the cigarette, takes another drink from his glass, then nods. “All right,” he grates, voice rough like sandpaper. “Operation Find-The-Cunt is a go. Isaia, you get Leandra out of here. Maximo, get some extra eyes on them wherever they are, make sure they’re safe. Caelian, you're with me. We find this bastard and we end this once and for all.”

“How do you know where to start looking?” Isaia asks.

“I might have an idea.” Maximo steps up. “Fucker has a penthouse he uses for deals and hookups, right opposite a nightclub he’s got dibs on. I scoped it out a couple of times, even did a rough layout of the place. It's high security, cameras everywhere, bulletproof doors—the works.”

“And you’re only mentioning this now?” Nicoli slips on his suit jacket.

“You know I only come to you when I’ve got something worth reporting. So far, that place hasn’t been a concern to us. But since Aurelio was seen talking to Frank Corletto tonight, my guess is they’ll take their dealings there. And if he’s got Giana with him, he’ll finish up with Corletto first before he deals with her.”

“Maximo, you brilliant, brilliant piece of big-ass brute.” I stomp over to him, grab his face, and lay a big, fat kiss on his goddamn forehead. “You’re my hero.”

“Fuck off.”

“Love you, too, buddy.” I slap his face a few times, lightly, then turn to Nicoli. “We have a location and a plan.”

The room erupts into action, plans are laid out, and roles are divided. The air in the room is charged and electric with determination.

Isaia gives me a worried look, but I shake my head. He's got his job, and I've got mine. And even though I want to kick his ass half the time, we trust each other to do what we have to do. We know what needs to be done.

Outside, the city turns into a cocoon of darkness as rain pelts down like gunfire. The low rumble of thunder echoes ominouslyin the distance, dragging along a raw mix of anxiety and anticipation. It's a storm, both literally and metaphorically, and we're at its epicenter.

Once Nicoli and I get in the back of the SUV, Maximo speeds off. He’s on speakerphone, putting more security detail in place. Half our men are already on their way to the penthouse, the other half tasked to create a human goddamn wall around Leandra, Mira, and the kids.

My heart is hammering against my ribs as I dial Giana’s phone for the fiftieth time, hoping she might pick up. But she doesn’t, and I throw my phone against the seat in front of me, my frustration bubbling over like lava from a volcano.

Nicoli puts a hand on my shoulder in a silent gesture of camaraderie and empathy. We both know the gravity of the situation and understand what's at stake.

The rain continues to hammer down on the SUV, and I lean against the window, watching as the city blurs past us. Neon signs flicker, moments of bright color swallowed by the endless black. A million lives unaware of the lockstep march toward chaos happening under their noses.

My mind whirls, a jagged carousel of thoughts, all leading toward the one unimaginable outcome that we might not get to Giana in time. Each passing minute is a tick-tock countdown on an invisible clock, and I can’t bear thinking of what I’ll become if Aurelio takes her from me.

I’ve been a dick to her so many times, playing my selfish games, loving it way too much, so afraid shit will get boring between us. But I’ll gladly exchange excitement for boring if it means I get to keep her.

As the car rounds the corner, we catch sight of Aurelio’s green Lamborghini parked outside his club, rows of people standing in line, waiting for their chance to get in.

Maximo parks the car, and I’m about to jump out of the vehicle when Nicoli grabs my arm just as Maximo’s phone rings.

We both watch with bated breaths as Maximo answers with a single word.

“Talk.”

Seconds feel like eons, and Maximo’s giving me nothing, simply responding with a, “Hmm,” and “Ah-huh.” It’s like whoever’s on the other end is talking to a deaf, mute, impotent, giant piece of flesh with no brain.

Finally, he hangs up, and I’m about to throttle it out of him. “Maximo, talk before I cut out your tongue.”

He leans forward, glancing up at the top of the twenty-story building. “She’s here.”

“Then what the fuck are we waiting for?” I demand.

“Give it a second,” he says, then points across the street, rows of our men starting toward the building.

Nicoli’s phone vibrates with a text. “Davian and Poppy are in position.”

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