Page 28 of Iron Bride

The fall of the executioner’s axe was on Marco. It was on me.

In a single stroke, the iron blade glinted through the air, as it came down fast. The deep gash opened down the side of Marco’s face from forehead, barely missing his eye, slashing down a nostril, over his top lip, and to his chin.

I wanted Cillian to kill Marco mercifully. I did! But selfishly, I also wanted another moment of being someone’s friend. Of having someone in my world, breathing, and caring for me. Someone who wasn’t my mother.

Just for a minute longer, I wanted the number of people who cared about me to be higher than… one.

Marco bore his new wound with dignity.

“I’m sorry, Marco,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry, Gia,” he whispered back.

Cillian’s growl was low, and frightening. Like the rattle of a hidden snake in the grass.

His knife plunged into Marco’s thigh, and the blood flowed faster, down his leg.

I fell forward, my hands in the blood, and I wailed. For Marco. For my grandfather, Eugenio Durante. For my father, Giovanni Morelli.

I wailed for me.

Goodbye, Marco.

I waited for the pool of blood below me to turn into a flood. But it didn’t. I heard the body fall to the floor, a grunt, and the sound of flesh on concrete.

A bloodless death, then. Maybe that was a mercy.

“Leave New York City.” Was my husband commanding me to leave his side?

I looked up, but far from seeing Marco’s corpse. He wasn’t dead. He was very much alive, staring at my husband in shock.

“You will disappear.” Cillian wiped his bloody blade on his trouser leg. “If you come anywhere near my wife, my family, or my city, I will bleed every Rossini dry and create a canvas so magnificent, it will cover the façade of the Grand Kintyre.”

Cillian took two steps forward, until he blocked Marco from my sight.

“Am I understood?” Cillian’s growl sent a shiver of fear and hope through me. Was this a trick?

Marco nodded his head, before looking at me, unsure of what to do.

“Get up Giovanna.” Cillian strode to my side, offering me his hand.

I looked at my blood-covered palms, and up at my husband. I tried to wipe them off on my velvet dress, but he grew too impatient. He leaned down and roughly pulled me to my feet.

He grabbed my face in his hand, pulling me up for a simple kiss on the lips.

“Hebetrayedyou,” Cillian said, his breath grazing over my mouth. “And yet you beg me to let him live?”

I nodded because I was too stunned to speak.

He traced his lips along my cheek bone until he was at my ear. “Your mercy will get us killed.”

Chapter eleven

Another Man

Cillian

Isat in the dark ofourpenthouse. Mine, and my wife’s.

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