The icy stone walls of the cathedral chilled against Valeria Costa's back, icy as a grave. Red roses spilled over every inch of the floor, a silent flood of color that mocked the occasion. Heavy, scented incense shrouded the air, commingling with the smell of rain percolating through cracks in the old building. Gold statues of saints glowered down at her, their stained-glass light cutting across her white wedding dress—a wedding dress she had not selected.
She wagged her fingers as she tore the seam of her glove. Her heart pounded—no, not with love, but with fear, a trapped bird within her.
Nico Bellini towered over her at the altar. His blond hair was slick in the light, and his dark eyes locked on hers as if she already belonged to him. She did not want to be here. Her heels dug into the scarlet carpet as the organ blasted music over stifled murmurs of the main mafia clans and their diamond-encrusted wives, all staring on as if she were a trophy.
Valeria moved stealthily down the aisle. Her mother's pearl earring, the only thing she still possessed from Elena, dangled from a loop around her neck. She'd been killed in a car crash twelve years prior, and her dad had been lying to her since then. Now he was selling her off for guns, marrying her off to Nico to ally.
Her fists were clenched. She vowed to burn the whole cathedral before she would surrender.
Rain pounded the windows. Thunder rumbled. She looked at the big front doors. She was a moment's fleeting fool to hope that she might get away. But for guard duty, her father had stationed his guards, their jackets hiding guns, their faces hard and unforgiving.
She squared her shoulders and set her chin. If they were going to play her like a piece on a board, she'd be the one who flipped the board over.
The priest raised the Bible and started to recite, "If anyone present objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace."
The church was quiet. One second. Two.
Then, the doors burst open.
Wind and rain broke in and blew out the candles. A tall, wet figure entered—imposing and imposing alone. Matteo Santoro. His black leather jacket clung to his muscular physique. His gray eyes locked with Valeria like a predator who has caught sight of prey.
He did not look at the partygoers. Not at Nico. Not at her father.
But she was alone.
This wedding's over," Matteo gasped, his deep voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. He shoved his way to the front, water streaming off his shoes.
Valeria's heart pounded. She did not move.
Nico reached for his gun, but Matteo already possessed it.
'You bastard!' Nico snarled, lunging even as two guards restrained him. 'I'll carve your name into my bullets!'"
Guests were screaming. Chairs were shattering. Matteo's men stormed into the church, guns drawn.
Valeria's veil snagged on a pew. She was frozen in shock, in terror. Matteo Santoro was from one of their competing crime syndicates. Her father's archenemy. She had heard the name. But not under these circumstances.
Nico fought, but Matteo's heavies kept him pinned. The priest stumbled back. Her father jumped to his feet, shouting.
Valeria didn't think.
She ran.
Her feet slid on the wet floor. She ripped the veil off and dashed down the side aisle.
Matteo caught her. His hand was clenched around her wrist. She nipped him, her teeth sinking into his arm. He didn't release her.
"Her breath hitched. The screams and gunfire blurred together. A dozen escape plans vanished in smoke. Was this her rescue—or a worse fate?"
"Bite all you want, princess," he whispered, low and cold. "I want to know how far you'll go."
She kicked him. Her skirt got caught. He pulled her close. He smelled of leather, rain, and danger. Her heart raced.
His eyes kept her clamped tighter than his arms did.
He pushed her through the pews, through shouting and chaos. The storm met them outside. Rain pounded against her face. She was soaked through her dress. Rocks under the soles of her shoes stabbed her feet.
There was a black sedan waiting.
Matteo shoved her into the back of it and got in behind her. The door closed. The sedan sped off.
There was silence within. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. He still had her wrists in his grasp.
She spat at him and glared. "You think you can just steal me?" she snarled. "I'll fight you every inch of the way."
Matteo smiled, eyes black and threatening. "Please do," he invited. "But you're my toy now. And I don't break toys."
She freed her wrist. It hurt where he'd held it. She tested the door. Locked.
Her heart sank, but her face stayed serene.
The car roared down rainy streets. City lights churned the windows.
Then she saw it.
A photo fell out of Matteo's jacket. She was in it—grinning outside a café, months earlier. Red was drawn around her face in a circle.
She froze.
He hadn't destroyed her arranged wedding, just.
He'd stalked her for months.
"Who are you?" she panted.
Matteo stuffed the photo into his pocket, ramming it down into his jacket. Their hands brushed together. An odd shiver ran through her.
He gazed at her. "Your worst nightmare," he said to her.
But his voice shook slightly.
And Valeria could not determine if he lied.
The car disappeared into the storm.
She grasped for her mother's pearl earring.
Survive. Fight. Win.
Back in the cathedral….
Nico sprang up, blood on his collar. "Open the doors!" he yelled.
"They're locked on the outside!" screamed one of the men.
Another tried to kick. "They're braced!"
"Break them!" Nico thundered.
At last, the doors groaned open. Rain poured in.
But no car.
No lights.
No Valeria.
Storm and serenity.
Giovanni Costa stormed down the aisle and grabbed Nico. "You promised more guards. More control. And my daughter vanished—with him!"
Nico shoved him away. "I'll kill Matteo. I promise it."
The two men stood, eyes locked—both enraged, both poised for battle.
Between them, the wedding guests sat in stunned stillness, as the chandeliers swayed above.
Outside, the thunder again boomed.
And the hunt began.