Page 84 of Heartless Vows

I don’t care how far away I was or how much destruction I wrought to get here; four minutes is an eternity during an emergency, and my wife needs me.

A smaller set of numbers blinks underneath the first. Less than a minute after Aurora hit her alarm, Tristan engaged the emergency beacon on his watch.

As I bolt up the steps to the front door, three other vehicles screech to a halt in the grass. I don’t wait for Fiero or the rest of my crew to join me before I slam through the front doors and stalk across the foyer.

Tristan looks up while rushing down the stairs. When he sees me, he turns and heads back up, yelling over his shoulder as I vault up after him.

“Rora’s door is locked, but mamma isn’t home, and she sounded weird when I told her I was ready to go.”

“When’s the last time you talked to her?” I ask as I pass him.

“Before I pressed the button. Something’s not right. The house is never this empty,” he calls up the stairs at me.

I reach the landing and run down the hall to Aurora’s room. Her door handle cuts into my palm but doesn’t budge, no matter how hard I yank on it.

“Aurora? Open the door,” I demand.

She takes too long to respond, and when she does, the strain in her voice raises my hackles.

I pull my pistol from my belt holster, step back, drop my weight, and pour every ounce of power into kicking the door, driving the sole of my shoe into the wood near the handle.

Wood cracks and metal snaps, but the frame remains intact. I kick again and rush through the doorway, catch the door bouncing back with my shoulder, and snap my muzzle toward the masculine form on the far side of the bed.

Otello Tempe tugs Aurora between us, shielding himself with her body. He wraps his fist around her throat and yanks her back against him as he lifts his pistol and aims at my chest.

She grabs his wrist and rises onto her tiptoes when he squeezes her throat.

Fury tinges my vision red as I take in her lack of clothes.

Her bra hangs off her shoulders with the front clasp undone. Only her panties remain on her body.

Otello Tempe is a dead man walking. He’ll never leave this room. I’ll kill him.

He knows it, too, but he’s too much of a weasel to die quietly. The moment his eyes harden with the knowledge of his imminent death, I step forward, ready to take a bullet at point blank range just so I can wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the life out of him.

He presses his muzzle to Aurora’s temple.

I freeze.

“Drop the gun and tell the men in the hall to stand down,” Otello demands.

I move my finger off the trigger, extending it along the smooth metal, and lift both hands in the universal sign of surrender.

“Fiero, you heard him,” I call over my shoulder. I slowly squat and place my pistol on the floor.

“Drop your other weapons while you’re down there,” the old man sneers.

I meet Aurora’s shiny emerald eyes and pull a second pistol from my chest holster. She shifts her grip on his arm and leans away from him. He hisses and pulls her closer.

“Be careful, Otello, before I decide to make your death as slow and painful as possible,” I say as I set the pistol beside the first.

He chuckles and digs his fingertips into Aurora’s jugular. Her face turns purple before he relents, but she doesn’t gasp or fight for breath. Instead, she holds eye contact with me.

“Keep going, Giorgio. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know you have more weapons. Where are those infamous knives?”

His goading won’t work. I pull the third pistol from my chest harness and place it beside the others on the floor.

“Really, though, is she worth all this fuss?” he mocks as I take the first knife from my chest harness.

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