Chapter 6: The Godfather’s Bride

“Get down!”

Enzo’s voice tore through the pitch-black basement. He didn't wait for me to react. His arm banded around my waist, yanking me off my feet and dragging me behind a heavy stone pillar just as the first shot rang out.

The muzzle flash illuminated the room for a split second. I saw Dante’s silhouette, and at least five other armed men fanning out in the dark.

“Stay behind me,” Enzo growled.

His hand found mine in the darkness, his fingers lacing through mine and squeezing tight. The moment our skin connected, the violent, barely contained rage in his posture shifted. It didn't disappear, but it sharpened into something lethal. Something in control.

“You’re a dead man, Dante!” Enzo roared into the dark.

“I’m the only man who knows where your precious ledger is!” Dante shouted back. “Hand over the girl, Enzo. Let the Vance bloodline pay for what they did to my father, and I’ll let you keep your empire.”

“You can have my empire,” Enzo said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly whisper right next to my ear. “But you’re not touching my wife.”

My breath hitched. His wife.

Enzo raised his revolver over the edge of the pillar and fired three rapid shots. Two distinct thuds followed by the clatter of dropped weapons told me he’d hit his marks.

“Move!” he barked.

He pulled me out from behind the pillar. I couldn't see anything, but Enzo navigated the pitch-black room like he had night vision. He kept his left hand locked around my right, using his body to shield me from the incoming gunfire.

A bullet whizzed past my head, close enough that I felt the heat of it graze my hair. I screamed, stumbling, but Enzo’s grip on my hand tightened, yanking me forward.

“Keep your eyes open, Sarah!” he snapped.

“I can’t see!”

“Use the flashes!”

He shoved me behind a heavy metal shelving unit just as another round of gunfire erupted. I pressed my back against the cold metal, my chest heaving, my ears ringing. Enzo was right beside me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

His hand was trembling in mine. The physical exertion, the adrenaline—it was pushing his body to the brink.

“Enzo,” I whispered.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out.

He leaned his head back against the shelf, his eyes squeezed shut. In the brief flash of a muzzle, I saw a streak of blood on his cheek. My heart dropped into my stomach.

“You’re bleeding,” I said.

“It’s not mine.” He opened his eyes, and the predatory, ruthless focus was back. “We need to get to the elevator at the back of the room. There’s a panic room.”

“How are we going to make it across the room?” I asked. “They have us pinned down.”

“We’re going to run,” he said. “And you’re not going to let go of my hand. No matter what happens. If you let go, I lose my control, and we both die. Do you understand?”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “I understand.”

“On three,” he said.

He didn't count to three. He shoved off the shelving unit, pulling me with him.

We sprinted through the dark. The gunfire was deafening. Enzo fired back, his arm steady, his aim perfect. A man screamed to my left, dropping to the floor.

We were three feet from the elevator when Dante stepped out of the shadows.

He was holding a sawed-off shotgun, aiming it directly at my chest.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Vitale,” Dante sneered.

Time slowed down. I saw Dante’s finger tighten on the trigger.

Enzo didn't shoot. He didn't try to fire back.

He dropped his gun, spun around, and used his own body to cover mine.

The shotgun blast was deafening.

Enzo’s body jolted forward, slamming into mine and driving me hard against the elevator doors. The air rushed out of my lungs. The smell of cordite and blood filled my nose.

“Enzo!” I screamed.

He slumped against me, his breathing ragged. I looked over his shoulder. Dante was standing there, the shotgun smoking, a look of pure shock on his face. He hadn't expected Enzo to take the bullet for me.

Enzo’s knees buckled. He was heavy, so heavy, pinning me to the door. But his hand never let go of mine.

With his free hand, Enzo blindly reached out, slamming his palm against the elevator call button.

The heavy brass doors slid open. Enzo pushed me backward into the elevator car. He collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the floor, pulling me down with him.

“Floor... basement level three,” he gasped, blood staining his white shirt on the left side of his ribs.

I reached over him, slamming the button for the panic room. The doors started to slide shut. Dante ran toward us, firing another shot. The bullet ricocheted off the steel doors as they closed, trapping us inside.

“Enzo, you’re bleeding!” I cried, pressing my hands against the wound. The blood was hot and slick, pouring through my fingers.

“It’s just a graze,” he grunted, his face pale.

“It’s not a graze! You’re losing too much blood!”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. We were in a massive underground bunker. I tried to pull away to look for a first aid kit, but Enzo’s hand clamped down on my wrist like a manacle.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” he growled, his eyes wild with pain and possessiveness.

“I’m trying to save your life!” I snapped, tears stinging my eyes.

“You save my life by staying right here,” he said, pulling me down onto the floor next to him.

He wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my hair. The moment my skin pressed against his, the violent trembling in his body stopped. His breathing began to even out.

“I’m getting you a doctor,” I whispered.

“Not yet.”

He pulled back, his dark eyes finding mine. He looked like a man on the edge of death, but the hunger in his gaze was unmistakable.

“You took a bullet for me,” I said, my voice shaking. “Why?”

Enzo reached up, his fingers weakly tracing my jawline.

“Because you are mine,” he said, his voice thick. “And I will kill anyone who tries to take you from me. Even if I have to die to do it.”

He pulled my face down to his, kissing me. It was a slow, deep, desperate kiss. His blood stained my dress, his hands gripping my waist with a bruising intensity.

A loud crackle echoed from the monitor on the wall. A live feed from the basement flickered on.

Dante was standing there, but he wasn't alone. Victoria Hale was standing next to him, holding a large laptop, a cold, victorious smile on her face.

“Did you really think Dante was working alone, Enzo?” Victoria’s voice crackled through the bunker’s speaker system. “I’ve been waiting years to take your empire. And now, I’m going to take your wife, too.”

The heavy steel door of the bunker locked from the outside. We were trapped.