Chapter 2 - Blood on White Silk
The heavy oak doors of the bridal suite rattled before I could take another breath. Nico moved without making a sound, pure predatory instinct honed by a lifetime of violence. With one fluid motion, he snatched a matte-black Beretta from a hidden holster inside his waistband, grabbed the nape of my neck, and shoved me down behind the solid mahogany desk. ""Stay down, don't scream, and do not get in my line of fire,"" he commanded, his breath brushing the curve of my ear. ""If you run, you die."" The heavy wood splintered inward with a deafening crack. Three men in tactical gear burst through the entryway, suppressors coughing muted thuds that chewed through the silk-upholstered walls. Glass shattered violently above us. Plaster rained down into my hair like macabre confetti. I didn’t shriek. Survival instinct took over. While Nico rose like a phantom, firing three double-taps with chilling precision that dropped two assailants in their tracks, I spotted the fallen ceramic vase near the carpet edge. The third gunman lunged toward Nico’s blind spot, his rifle leveled directly at my husband's spine. Nico was clearing his chamber—a jam. He had two seconds to live. I didn't think about alliances or treaties; I thought about staying breathing. I surged upward, hauling the heavy marble lamp base from the desk, and swung it with all the force my father’s trainers had drilled into me. The heavy stone smashed squarely against the side of the gunman’s helmet, knocking him off balance just as Nico cleared the slide. Nico grabbed the man’s throat, slammed his skull into the doorframe with a sickening thud, and let the limp body drop. Blood spattered across the hem of my pristine bridal gown, crimson soaking through ivory lace. Nico stood amidst the carnage, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured beats. He glanced down at the dead men, then his gaze traveled up to me, holding the shattered lamp base, my knuckles white, breathing hard but steady. For the first time, a flicker of genuine shock crossed his dark eyes, swiftly replaced by savage respect. ""You hit hard for a sheltered princess,"" he murmured, kicking the rifle aside. ""I told you, I'm not a trophy,"" I snapped, brushing drywall dust from my diamonds. ""Who were they? Ferrante men?"" Nico knelt, ripping the tactical patch off the lead assassin's vest to reveal a twin-headed serpent. ""Worse. Syndicate mercenaries. Your father didn't just order this alone; he partnered with the Corvin family to take us both out."" My stomach plummeted. The Corvins were ruthless butchers. If my father had allied with them, he had sold out the entire city. ""We can't stay here,"" Nico said, grabbing my hand and hauling me toward a concealed bookcase. ""The estate is compromised. Grab the knife from that dead man's boot. If we want to see tomorrow, Chiara, we run.""
