Page 50 of A Bride for the Mafia King

My mind renews its previous train of thought. Spinning with calculations—access routes, vehicle approach, how long we’ve got.

“He’s going to kill her,” I say, steel hardening in my voice. “And he wants me to find her body in the same place his father died.”

Nico doesn't hesitate. “Then we have to go now.”

He moves to the bar and slides my sidearm across it to me. Grabbing his coat, already pulling out his phone and barking orders. I cock the piece, checking the chamber and then the magazine before tucking the pistol into my waistband.

“Tell your men to fall back and secure the building,” I bark. “No one approaches unless I say. This place, it’s a trap. There’s no way to reach it without being seen. He wants us to make a desperate attempt at rescue and he knows he’s got the advantage.”

“Copy that.”

I head for the door—but stop halfway.

A memory pins me in place as I look down the hallway toward our bedroom. Eva’s voice, still soft in my ears.

“Something simple. Just us.”

I grit my teeth. Dammit, she’s mine and she’s not going to die today. Not like this. She doesn't die like this.

“Nico,” I say, turning back. “That warehouse is hell to reach. One entrance. One line of sight in. We can’t sneak up on it without being spotted.”

I grab the tablet off the side table and pull up a digital map of it to show him.

“We’ll split up here,” he says. Pointing to a cluster of trees on a ridge. “I’ll take the eastern ridge there’s a rise. Could give us high ground. Maybe a clear shot.”

I nod. “I’ll circle in through the loading dock. Alone. No headlights. Silent approach.”

I nod once, eyes burning. “Make sure your men stay sharp.”

He doesn’t question me about going in alone. Just grips my forearm hard, the look in his eyes grim.

I pull my pistol out again, chambering a round and looking down the barrel out the window at the city beyond. The cold click echoing louder than thunder in my ears. After a moment I lowered it, turning to meet his gaze, voice low and final.

“Let’s go get our girl.”

Chapter Nineteen

Eva

Yaro’s SUV

The engine cuts off. No more harsh words from Yaro in the front seat. No crunch of gravel beneath the tires. Just the sound of my own blood rushing through my ears and the click of the striker bolt as Yaro steps out of the vehicle and closes the door.

Within moments the door behind me swings open, and a blast of cold air hits the back of my neck. Yaro reaches in and grabs me roughly under the arms and I let him pull me out of the backseat and to the pavement before I strike, stomping the heel of my sneaker down on his foot as hard as I can.

He curses, staggering slightly, and I twist in his grip, jamming my elbow backward with all the force I can muster. Right into his crotch. He lets out a strangled sound, doubling over. And with that I’m free from his hold. I run.

The world blurs around me, the rusted side of the building, the broken fence around it. My lungs scream as I push myself forward, legs pumping, not daring to look back.

But I don’t get far. Rage-fueled footsteps thunder behind me too fast, too close. Then—a hand tangles in my hair. Yanks me back and my feet fly out from underneath me.

I scream as I hit the ground hard, shoulder first, pain bursting across my body. Instinct takes over and I curl into myself, hands pressed protectively to my stomach.

Yaro looms over me, chest heaving from exertion and pain. His laughter is high, wild and genuinely awful as he gloats.

“Well, well,” he sneers, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. “That was quite the break for it. Where did you think you were going to go, huh?”

His eyes drop to where my hands are guarding my abdomen. And a bead of recognition stems across his gaze. His smirk deepens.