6

Archie’s POV

A sudden ache bloomed in my chest—sharp, tight, like something was slipping through my fingers and I couldn’t stop it.

And then Betty’s sugary voice cut into my thoughts.

“What are you thinking about, Archie?” she purred.

We were in the bridal lounge, tucked away in one of the powder rooms reserved for the bride and groom.

The wedding was minutes away, and she was glowing, content. I was… not.

“Nothing,” I lied, grabbing my phone. “Just need to make a call.”

I stepped out before she could follow.

I hadn’t heard from Sabrina. I figured she was still pissed—my mother had publicly announced my marriage to Betty, even though I’d planned to tell her myself.

What she didn’t know—what no one knew—was that this wedding was for show. A move. A game piece.

But then, just as I unlocked my phone, her message appeared.

“Hope you enjoy your wedding today. Don’t bother checking in. We’ll be no longer your worries.”

What the hell?

Enjoy your wedding? We’ll be no longer your worries?

A chill slid down my spine.

Suddenly, the unease made sense. I hadn’t heard from her since yesterday. No call. No text. Nothing. And now this?

I tried calling her immediately.

No answer. Again. Straight to voicemail.

Panic rose in my throat like fire.

I didn’t care about the tux, or the flowers, or the five-hundred-person guest list. I called my assistant with a voice I barely recognized.

“I told you to keep tabs on Sabrina,” I barked. “Where is she?”

A pause. Then: “Boss… she and Elly got into a cab this morning. Headed to the airport. I thought maybe they were just going on a holiday trip…”

I didn’t even let him finish. I turned, bolting toward the gate. “Send the driver over. Now. I want to go to the airport.”

…

The drive was torture.

I called her again. Again. Again.

Nothing.

My pulse was erratic, hands clenched tight on my knees.

The driver slowed at an intersection, veering left.

“Don’t take detours!” I snapped. “Straight to the airport.”

“Mr. Valez,” he said, glancing at me through the mirror, “Christmas Eve traffic. Roads are closed off in a few places. This is the only route still open.”

“Damn it,” I hissed under my breath. “I forgot it was Christmas Eve.”

I’d been drowning in wedding plans, distractions, power plays.

But not this. I should’ve remembered this.

Christmas Eve was our anniversary.

The night we met.

Maybe that’s why Sabrina was acting strange. Maybe she was hurt that I forgot.

But then again the text didn’t sound like anger. It sounded like goodbye.

My chest squeezed again, the kind of fear one feel when they realize someone they love is slipping away—and they might already be too late.

“Faster,” I told the driver.

Meanwhile, I started checking flight schedules, searching for anything that matched the timeline.

And I saw it. A flight to Las Vegas.

Sabrina’s hometown.

My gut twisted.

Could she be…?

The more I thought about it, the more the pieces snapped into place—and the more terrified I became.

Sabrina was moving back home?

…

Sabrina Marcellus. Her family basically ran Las Vegas the way the Valez ruled New York—but with more power, more reach, and a hell of a lot more teeth.

But Sabrina never flaunted any of it. She wasn’t like those women.

Yes, we were all born into blood and rules and quiet wars of the mafia world. Most of us wore it like armor. Used love like a currency. Traded hearts for power.

But Sabrina?

When I met her, she was working at an animal rescue. Not for show. Not for optics. She was kneeling on dirty concrete, bandaging a dog’s mangled leg while the rest of the city partied in designer suits.

Even when we were together—when I should’ve been another asset, another move on a chessboard—she treated me like a man. Not a Valez. Not a mafia heir. Just… me.

And I ruined it.

I ruined her.

The woman who once held my heart like it was the most fragile, precious thing in the world… was leaving.

And she was taking our daughter with her.

I thought of her eyes, her smile. The way she held me like I wasn’t made of violence and secrets. I thought of Elly—our baby girl, her laugh, the way she looked up to me like I was her whole world.

I made up my mind.

“You can drop me here,” I told the driver.

He looked confused, but I was already out the door. The roadblocks were backed for miles. Christmas Eve traffic, impossible. If I had any shot of making it to them in time, I’d have to run.

Two miles.

I could run.

So I did.