His Bride Of Revenge

**Elena's POV**

Someone should have warned me that tonight might be the night I die... or at least almost.

​

“No… no… no, what the hell was that?” I screamed as glass shattered behind me. 

“That was obviously a gunshot, Oh God! Not tonight, please.” My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst.

My whole body tensed as the sharp smell of gunpowder filled the car.

I pressed the gas pedal hard with my foot while gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to regain control.

Then, through the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of two headlights rushing toward me, and my hands instinctively gripped the wheel tighter.

“What am I going to do? Elena you've got to think… think…” My chest felt tight, and cold sweat broke out across my forehead, dripping into my eyes, while my palms slipped on the wheel as I struggled to maintain control.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the roar of the engine. “Please, God, help me.”

The street ahead was empty, with streetlights stretching across the wet road. 

Milan at night looked too peaceful for this kind of bullshit happening right now.

Another shot blasted my side mirror, and the glass shattered with a loud sound. I flinched, swerving to avoid losing control.

“Who are you?” I shouted into the night, hitting the steering wheel in frustration. “What the hell do you want from me?”

My mind raced with a million thoughts.

“I can’t just sit here, I have to do something.” My heart raced faster as I reached for my small black gun hidden in the glove compartment. 

Papa's advice echoed in my mind: "Never leave home without it." Thank goodness I had it tonight.

I rolled down the window, feeling the wind on my face as I aimed the gun with shaking hands. “Come on,” I hissed, desperation evident in my voice. “Come closer.”

And they did.

I fired twice but missed. The SUV swerved but quickly steadied itself, getting even closer.

Just then, my phone vibrated on the dashboard, lighting up with a text from an unknown number. 

I glanced at the screen for just a second.

​“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”

​“Holy Shit! I'm dead.” My hands trembled so violently I could barely hold the wheel.

“The Lorusso clan.”

I’d heard that phrase since I was a kid, whispered at funerals and painted in blood on walls after attacks. 

The Lorusso clan had haunted my family for years, with a vendetta that seemed endless.

My father warned me about them all the time, and I saw what they did to my mother.

Now they have found me. 

“Crap! Why do I have such bad luck?” I couldn't move, just sat there, stunned by the impossible fact that this was actually happening.

My hand trembled as I raised the gun, my fingers tightening on the trigger. I shot it again; this time, the bullet smashed their windshield, but they showed no signs of stopping.

Then, I felt it before I heard it: a bullet ripped through my shoulder.

Pain shot through me, making the gun slip from my hand as my right arm went limp.

“Ahhhhh, God…” I fought back a cry as I gripped the wheel with my other hand, the fabric of my cream shirt soaked with blood.

I pressed the gas pedal down, and the car surged forward, desperately focused on putting as much distance between us as I could manage.

The road blurred instantly as I squinted through the cracked glass. 

Palazzo Kiton flashed past on my left. 

“I have to be careful, the road here can be very tricky.” I whispered, as I forced my foot to ease up just a little.

My thoughts raced, tangled in fear and adrenaline, and all I could think about was staying alive; nothing else mattered.

“Help me,” I whispered, not sure who I was asking – God, fate, or anyone that might save me.

Then, the SUV suddenly rammed into my bumper, jolting me forward so fast that my mouth slammed against the wheel.

I tasted blood immediately filling my mouth.

“No, this has got to end.” I hissed sharply, my jaw filled with pain.

I swerved hard, trying to lose them, but the SUV stayed behind.

“Oh noooooo…” I thought frantically as I realized my mistake, sending panic through me.

My tires screeched as the car lost control. I hit the brakes desperately, but it was too late; a tire burst, causing the car to flip over and slide off the road.

Everything spiraled out of control; my body jerked forward, then sideways, and a brutal impact slammed my head into the steering wheel.

Pain erupted as my vision blurred, and I think I saw my life flash before my eyes.

Then, there was complete silence.

The seatbelt pressed into my ribs, keeping me in place as a loud ringing echoed in my ears, and I watched smoke rise up from the bonnet.

My head throbbed, pain stabbing through my shoulder, as I felt warm blood trickling down the side of my face.

​“Shit, this wasn’t how I expected today to end,” the thought echoed numbly in her mind.

I attempted to lift my hands, but nothing moved; they simply rested there, all I could hear was my heart racing.

I blinked hard, forcing my eyes to focus.

Looking through the cracked windshield, I saw the empty road; the SUV was nowhere to be found. They left me to die.

​“Papa,” I forced the word out. “I’m sorry.”

My entire body felt heavy and numb, as if it belonged to someone else.

“So this is it,” my lips trembled. “This is how I die.”

Pain throbbed in my shoulder with every heartbeat; I sank back, my eyes tightly shut, and the harsh truth hit me hard — I’d been stupid to think I could ever truly escape, to believe I could just walk away from all of this.

Tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision, and I couldn’t tell if it was fear, regret, or just the pain making me cry.

Memories of home flooded my mind, along with my father’s voice saying, “You’re not ready for the world out there, Elena. You wouldn’t last a night.”  

“Looks like you were right, Papa,” 

Remembering Lucia's voice echoing in my room earlier that night, I felt a wave of regret wash over me. “Your father wouldn’t like you sneaking out again,” she had warned me.

A soft, bittersweet laugh escaped my lips. “You were right, Lucia. He’s not going to be happy about this either.”

I’d spent weeks planning this escape, desperate to get away from my family’s mess, wanting a life where I didn’t have to look over my shoulder every second, where I could truly make my own choices. But now, sitting here bleeding, I felt completely hopeless.

“Elena Castellano, you really should have stayed at home.”

I tried to reach for my phone, but it was missing, lying somewhere on the floor out of reach.

I just wanted to scream.

“You wanted freedom, Elena,” I gently scolded myself. “This is the price,” as tears rolled down my face.

I began to lose consciousness, my breathing slowed down, and all I could taste was blood on my tongue.

My chest squeezed tight, and I felt myself slipping away.

Somewhere, far off, I thought I heard a siren, but maybe it was just in my head.

As my vision dimmed, a disturbing thought entered my mind: “At twenty-five, I had never even been kissed, and now I was about to die. How pathetic was my life?”

“This is what it means to be born a Castellano,” I sighed, my breath trembling as everything faded away.