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I take a step forward, shoulders back.
The Reaper stops me. “Don’t,” he whispers, lips barely moving.
My sister holds up her hands and softly signs, “You’re Valentina. Do you prefer to sign or speak?”
My sunshine glances at me, mouth open, mimicking my own. Yeah, I didn’t know Maeve knew sign language either. What the fuck is happening?
“Signing is preferred.” She swallows. “You can sign?”
“Hayes taught me,” she replies quietly. “It’s helped on more than one mission.”
Killian scoffs, looking away. Ah, so we’re still jealous. Adorable.
“If you do this,” she continues, speaking and moving her hands at once, “you will become my family. I protect my family. Sometimes with blood. More often, with violence.”
My girl nods. The fear dissipates as she regards my sister, chin lifted. There’s that backbone.
“You will no longer be a Bruno,” Maeve continues. “That family no longer exists. You answer to me, and only me.” Valentina bobs her head, swallowing. “I’m sure you’ve heard of my reputation.”
“I have,” she whispers. “You’re terrifying.”
A ghost of a smile appears on Maeve’s pale face. “I am. But only to my enemies.”
Taking Valentina’s dress, she jerks her head. “Let’s get you ready.”
The women walk past us, and Valentina grabs my hand, giving me a quick squeeze of reassurance. For me, or for her, I’m not sure. Once they disappear, I look at Killian, smacking his arm.
“What the fuck was that?”
“Approval.” He takes my suit out of the car, tossing it over his shoulder, and throws away his spent butt. “Be lucky. She put the fear of God into the capo before she gave him Sloane. He was ready to piss himself.”
Following him through the walkway, the shadows descended upon us. It’s nothing more than a path between two buildings, with overgrown ivy and morning glories. At the gate, he unlatches it and lets me in before it closes softly.
“I’m sure Hayes got off easy. She loves him.”
Killian clears his throat, frowning. “She kicked the shit out of him when she found out he was with Collins. Gave him the silent treatment for days.”
“Ouch.” He smiles, the little fucking prick.
Around the building is a simple white party tent with heavy linen walls. Killian leads me inside, the space dark except for one lone candle. At my raised eyebrow, he huffs.
“You gave me twelve hours and no budget. Make peace with it.”
He holds out the suit as I strip. Off with the sweatshirt and jeans, I chuck my boots and let the Reaper hand me items. I slide the suit jacket over my shoulders, and he brushes lint away as I fiddle with the tie.
By the second try, I take it off, ready to throw it across the space. Fuck this, I can get married without it.
“Here.” He turns me and gently adjusts the ends around my neck, touch light.
Smirking, I quip, “Probably not the greatest thing to allow a trained killer around my neck with a noose.”
Killian hums, tugging sharply, and I gag. The ass smirks. “Probably not.”
His fingers move quickly, wrapping the ends until it hangs loosely across my chest. He pulls it up, twisting it left before stepping back. Glancing down, I snort. Of course, it’s perfect.
I marvel at the soft fabric. It’s a dark green—the same color as my eyes, Valentina said. The same color as the panties she picked out for our wedding night.
Pretty excited about that, I won’t lie.
