Page 68 of The Forbidden Husband

“Fucking fools. All of you.”

I fired right where I heard his voice, and he cursed as I heard him drop to the floor. Three more shots, and the man went silent.

I rushed toward the door and opened it, finding that my shots had all met their mark. He lay on the ground, eyes open and lifeless. My eyes drifted toward the hallway where he had come from, and I saw nothing.Heardnothing. I didn’t sense the underlying current of another person waiting for me in that hallway, so I crept forward, waiting just another moment.

Finally, I stormed forward, listening for anything that would indicate Aria’s presence.

A muffled sound came from the end of the hallway, and I toed down it, careful not to allow the floor to creak beneath my feet. As I grew closer, the noise became more distinguished. It was a muffled shout—one that had to come from a woman’s lips.

Aria.

Nothing could have stopped me from racing forward and slamming into the room, taking less than two seconds to scan the surroundings before planting my eyes on her.

Aria lay cuffed to the bed, a gag tied over her lips. She shook her head frantically, trying to say something but failing to get it passed the gag. I had never moved so quickly in my life. I rushed toward her and reached for the cuff. There was no key in sight, but the metal bar of the bedframe met another metal piece with a small knob. I grabbed the knob and began twisting it as she thrashed.

“You need to hold still. I’m not going to hurt you,” I shouted at her as the bar shook and finally fell away.

Aria shocked me as she flung herself upright and grabbed her gag from between her lips. The bar slid through her cuffs, but she caught it frantically as she rushed around me and held it up like a makeshift weapon.

My attention caught on where the closet door burst open.

My half-brother Vito—Alonzo’s consigliere—stepped out, gun in hand.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Aria Bianchi

I couldn’t think through the blind panic as Enzo stormed into the room and did a haphazard check before coming to me. He didn’t check the closet. He didn’t bother looking toward where his sure demise would be waiting. I tried screaming for him to turn around, but the words fell on deaf ears as he took in the state of my body and moved forward.

He didn’t think about his own safety for even a moment.

Not a damnsecond.

The second I was up, I held the rod in front of me and charged toward the closet where Vito stepped out, an amused smile on his lips.

Amused.

As if killing his brother would be something comical and not devastating. I could never understand how they could grow up with one another and be so cold. Enzo wouldn’t even tell me about Vito when I had asked, and I had no idea what had happened between them.

I didn’t need to know.

I wouldn’t let him get to Enzo.

I charged forward, holding up the rod I clutched in my hand-cuffed palms, and Vito’s eyes went wide as he ducked out of the way. I expected him to point his gun, so I slammed the rod into his hand, and when he dropped the firearm, I kicked it out of the way.

I braced for a return blow—something to knock me off my feet or hurt me enough to back down. But when the blow didn’t come, I found him standing straight, palms out as if to stop another attack.

“Enzo,” he shouted, almost as if asking his brother to help him.

I scoffed and raised the rod again, but it caught on something from behind.

I spared a glance over my shoulder and found Enzo holding the end of it. “Aria, stop. He’s with us.”

I stared at Enzo for a long moment, then at Vito.

Then, back at Enzo.

He couldn’t be serious.

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