Page 33 of Borrowed Bride

“About time,” says the second. “Leo’s too much of a playboy. He’s a gentle fucker trying to stand tall and fill the boots of his sadistic father.”

“You sound like you feel bad for the fucker,” replies the first.

“Nah he’s just playing the hand he’s dealt, y’know? He lacks his father’s cruel streak so when he barks, it sounds like yapping. No wonder he resorts to mind games. He just picked the wrong target.”

“You think there’s truth to it?”

“No chance,” scoffs the second man. “You think if Boss’s sister was out there, she’d be undiscovered for this long? Boss is a fucking bloodhound. No one gets away from him.”

Marco really has done everything in his power to keep Emilia safe, to the point that his own men don’t even know she’s been living under the same roof. That’s incredible—and rules these two out as the leak.

They settle into useless conversation about sport for the rest of the drive and I remain hidden, running through everything I know about Cherry. Never once in our past did she ever mention any of the well-known Mafia names. She was on drugs, but it’sthe Barrones that control the drug trade around here. Even I know that.

So why is she with Leo?

Nothing makes sense. The deeper I fall into this world, the more confused I become. I almost miss the simplicity of the streets but after a month here, becoming entangled in all these secrets, I’m certain that life is over.

Marco will never let me go, even if we continue to be friendly.

I know about Emilia and that is indeed a death sentence if I try to leave.

By the time the car pulls to a stop, my hands and feet are numb, and a gentle tremor runs through my body from the cold and adrenaline. I remain hidden, listening to a dull hum of voices outside that eventually fades with time.

Then, there’s only silence.

I count to sixty and then slowly climb from the car. A bitterly cold wind hits me when I step outside, and the scent of salty sea air floods my lungs with each breath. We’re in a parking lot filled with badly parked cars and several flood lights struggling to hold on to full power. At the opposite end of me stands a gigantic warehouse that creaks and snaps every so often, complaining just like an elderly man complains about his old bones.

That must be where they are.

I take a step forward, then the night air is suddenly filled with an explosion of gunshots like the crack of a whip. Instinct forces me to duck down beside the car with a squeak and a storm of gunfire takes over. It’s like a fireworks show located entirely inside the warehouse, and my heart pounds so hard that the taste of iron flashes over my tongue.

I made a mistake.

What the hell was I thinking?

“Gianna?” says a voice. I glance up from where I’m cowering by the car to see one of the guards who drove here standing overme with an assault rifle in his hands. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I have no answer for him, and I don’t resist when he grabs me by the upper arm and hauls me toward the raging inferno of shooting inside the warehouse.

By the time he scrapes the door open and shoves me inside, the fighting has stopped and a sickly yellow light spills across the empty warehouse floor.

People are dead. Countless men lie across the floor like discarded rags in all sorts of positions. They share one thing in common—their torsos are mottled with red holes and crimson puddles surround them.

Those that weren’t killed are at the mercy of Marco’s men, kneeling and facing the wall at the back of the room with weapons aiming at them, ready to fire at the slightest movement.

To my immense relief, Marco is mostly unharmed. Blood streaks his striped shirt and his left cheek looks injured, but he’s standing tall and proud with his handgun pointed at the man cowering under his boot.

It’s Leonardo, who has both his hands clutching at a spilling gunshot wound on his thigh.

None of them look up when we enter and the guard making me walk abruptly halts.

“The truth,” Marco states, oddly calm for someone who just tore through a warehouse. “My patience is wearing fucking thin with you.”

“You want her?” Leonardo asks, wheezing from the weight of Marco standing one foot on his chest. “I can—I can get her for you!”

“Stop lying!” Marco barks suddenly and he fires his gun twice, one on either side of Leo’s head.

I slap one hand over my mouth in fright, and my ears ring from the sound. This is…this is insane. This is too real.

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