Novels by Mikhala Hanger

The doctor placed seventeen stitches in Dante’s shoulder. Alessia remained beside him throughout the procedure, still wearing her bloodstained wedding gown. She rejected every suggestion that she change until the doctor confirmed the bullet had caused no permanent damage. When they were alone inside Dante’s bedroom, she used Gabriel’s knife to cut through the ruined fabric. The ivory dress pooled around her feet. Dante watched from the bed, his arm secured in a sling. “You should rest,” she said. “I am resting.” “You’re staring.” “I was shot at my wedding. I’m entitled to one pleasant experience.” Alessia stepped out of the gown wearing the silk beneath it. Dante looked pained. “Is your shoulder worse?” “My shoulder is irrelevant.” She disappeared into the bathroom and returned wearing one of his black shirts. Its hem reached the middle of her thighs. Dante’s gaze darkened. “You’ve lost blood,” she reminded him. “Not enough.” Alessia crossed the room

Dante didn’t feel the bullet enter his shoulder. He felt Alessia’s body strike the stone beneath him. He covered her as gunfire tore through the wedding canopy. Guests screamed and overturned chairs in their rush towards the house. “Alessia.” Blood covered the front of her ivory gown. Too much blood. Dante’s hands moved desperately across her body, searching for the wound. Her eyes opened. “It isn’t mine.” Relief struck him with enough force to make him dizzy. The blood came from his shoulder. The bullet had passed through muscle, but he barely registered the pain. “You’ve been shot,” Alessia said. “I’m fine.” “You’re bleeding on me.” “I’ll apologise later.” Another round struck the stone near his head. Dante fired towards the gate, dropping one of Hale’s men behind an armoured vehicle. Enzo slid behind the terrace wall beside them. “The eastern route is open.” “Gabriel?” Alessia demanded. “With Caterina inside.” “Isabella?” “Safe room.” Dan

Alessia stood before the mirror while three women adjusted the final layers of her gown. The dress was ivory rather than white. Delicate lace covered her arms, and the fitted bodice gave way to a skirt that moved like water around her feet. A knife rested against her thigh. Two pistols had been sewn into hidden pockets. Isabella fastened an antique diamond necklace around Alessia’s throat. “It belonged to Dante’s grandmother.” “It’s beautiful.” “She shot her first husband.” Alessia met Isabella’s gaze in the mirror. “Why?” “He attempted to poison her.” “Did he survive?” “Briefly.” Alessia touched the diamonds. “A comforting wedding tradition.” Isabella smiled. “You’ll fit into this family perfectly.” Gabriel entered after the other women departed. He wore a black suit, though weakness still affected his movements. Caterina waited outside the suite, watching him with the protective attention of someone who had spent years keeping him alive. Brother and s

Rain began as Alessia reached the cliff. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched black waves break against the rocks below. The cottage door opened. Dante approached carrying his coat. “I’m not cold.” “You’re shivering.” “I said I’m not cold.” He placed the coat around her shoulders. She didn’t remove it. “You never told me,” Alessia said. “Told you what?” “That you love me.” Dante looked towards the sea. “Would it have changed anything?” “I don’t know.” “That’s why.” “How long?” “I wanted you since the cemetery.” “That wasn’t my question.” He remained silent. Alessia turned towards him. “How long have you loved me?” “Long enough to know better.” The answer frightened her. “You loved someone who hated you.” “You hated the man you believed I was.” “I still don’t know who you are.” “No.” “You kill people.” “Yes.” “You control half the city through fear.” “Yes.” “You had me followed.” “Yes.” “You’re making a terrible

The broken crown was not a place. It was a person. Caterina Russo had once been engaged to Gabriel. Their engagement ended six months before his supposed death, after Gabriel publicly accused her father of stealing from the Romano family. Nobody had seen Caterina since. Dante found her living under another name in a coastal town three hours away. They arrived after dark. The address belonged to a weathered cottage overlooking the sea. Dante ordered his guards to remain near the road while he and Alessia approached alone. A woman opened the door before they knocked. Caterina’s once-long hair had been cut to her chin. A thin scar crossed her eyebrow, and the pistol in her hand remained steady. “You took too long,” she told Dante. Alessia stepped forward. “Where is my brother?” Caterina looked at her. Then she lowered the weapon. Inside, a fire burned beneath an old stone mantel. Medical supplies occupied one corner, and the remains of dinner sat on a table set for two. A f

Gabriel’s coffin was opened at sunrise. Alessia stood beside the grave while workers raised the casket from the earth. Dante remained close without touching her. Isabella waited in a nearby vehicle, and Enzo supervised the guards surrounding the cemetery. The lid was lifted. There was no body inside. Only six bags of sand beneath a white burial shroud. Alessia stared into the empty coffin. Four years of grief shifted beneath her feet. Every anniversary, nightmare and moment spent planning Dante’s death had been built upon a lie. She turned towards Matteo. Two guards had brought him from Dante’s estate in handcuffs. He looked exhausted, his clothes wrinkled and his jaw shadowed with stubble. “Where is Gabriel?” Matteo saw the empty coffin and closed his eyes. “You knew,” Alessia said. “I suspected.” “You watched me bury bags of sand.” “Luca told me Gabriel died after I delivered him.” “You shot him.” “Twice. Neither wound was immediately fatal.” “Immediately?” Matteo