Bad Little Bride

My heart is raging, crashing against my rib cage like a ball to a bat. Mino’s mouth is moving, but I don’t hear him. My eyes snap across the road, taking in everything from the number of people walking to the length of the grass. I’ve catalogued every make and model of every vehicle we’ve passed on the way here and memorized more than half of the license plates.

The Vicente Vineyards.

How the fuck did they end up there?

I’ve worked with the Vicentes. They’re long-time clients of mine.

I’ll kill them all, tape an oxygen tank to their faces with twenty-four hours of air, tie weights around the sons’ ankles, and drop them over the side of my boat into my very own lake. Make them panic and live through the nightmare as they slowly die.

I’ll shave the⁠—

“Enzo.” Mino slaps at my chest, snapping me out of it. “Get out of your fucking head.”

“He’s dead.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Everyone there is dead. All of them. Every fucking person.”

Mino nods, but there’s tension in his shoulders. “Maybe I should go in first.”

I laugh, loudly, taking my guns from the holsters and inspecting them before stuffing them back, and checking the two strapped to my ankles. After that, I run my fingers over the knives in my suit insert and the switchblade in my front pocket. “How much longer?”

“Two minutes.”

I nod, glaring straight out the window.

“Bastian, his crew, and Rayo and his men are following.”

“Fuck Bastian. I let the Brays into my house because of him and look where we are. Never should have let her have my girl’s number.”

“Yeah.” Mino sighs. “If only we could kill him.”

“If he needs to die, he will.”

Mino says nothing to that.

He knows if she’s hurt, everyone will hurt, and being Bronx lost her signal seven minutes into the feed, we’re going in blind. Loaded down with weapons and manpower, but still blind.

If my brat of a wife thinks leading me to her is going to get her ass out of trouble, she’s mistaken.

This time when I mark her, it will be with my handprint across her ass.

“I see the car!” he snarls, foot slamming down on the gas.

I grip the “oh shit” handle, and the one on the door, pushing it open the slightest bit, and I’m throwing myself from my seat before the car’s in park, breaking off in a run so I don’t roll on my fucking ass.

I dart forward, flying toward the entrance of the winery. Fuck waiting for backup. My bride is in there, and I’m going in after her. Five more feet. I will cut their eyes from their⁠—

“Wha— Oh shit, wait!”

Everything in me ceases at the sound of her voice and I whip around, attention slicing toward the back door of a blacked-out, custom Hummer.

Time slows, the seconds passing like minutes as a gloved hand folds around the frame, one black flat-covered foot meeting the concrete, then another. My heart beats once, twice, and then there she is, throwing herself from the back seat, placing herself in my line of sight.

Fuck me, what a sight the full view of her is.

Her gown is tight, curling along her body and making the memory of her hourglass figure, naked and under me, flash behind my eyes. The bottom drags along the cement beneath her as she takes baby steps in my direction, and the top touches the middle point of her shoulders, leaving her collarbone on full display, and plunges between her breasts. Her blonde hair is in big, thick curls, the kind that are more a wave than a loop, and lies to one side, all front and center, and my fingers twitch to touch it. Her fingers are hidden beneath silky black gloves I’m tearing off with my teeth, maybe right now, if only to make sure my name is still penned across her finger. As if she could erase it.

As if she’d want to.

The veil on her head is no veil at all. It’s a hooded cloak made of a leafy lace of sorts and hangs longer than her gown does, and I ache to see her standing in our bedroom wearing it and it alone.

She’s fucking mesmerizing and she’s already mine.

She smiles, and fuck. It’s shy and sweet and so unlike my wife that a small pain forms behind my ribs.

Where we are and what’s going on around us is forgotten, the only thought going through her mind now that I, her husband, am seeing her in her wedding gown for the very first time.

A moment she was looking forward to.

A moment I stole and tried to give back.

My shoulders fall an inch, regret, an emotion I’m not accustomed to, weighing on me, but then the door at my back flies open. I whip around just in time to see none other than Philip Mitchell making a break for it.

His eyes snap up as he stumbles out the door, widening when they lock on mine. His body sways as he tries to stop his forward momentum, jolting himself backward, but then he freezes. It’s only for a half second, long enough for him to remember there’s a reason he’s fleeing the direction he came from. Before taking off to my right.

I turn, eyes locking with my wife’s.

She gives a single curt nod…and I raise my gun, clipping him in the right ankle, and he goes down with a rewarding crash, his scream sending a burst of satisfaction through me.

Mino reaches my wife, pressing in close to her back and scanning the area, so I swiftly move toward Mitchell, body shaking with anger as I hop over the hood of the car he tumbled behind.

“Wait!” Panicked eyes meet mine, sweat rolling down his face as he begs like the bitch he is. “Please, just hang on. Let me⁠—”

I send a bullet through his left foot, then right palm as he lifts it into the air, still begging.

“Fuck!” he screams. “Goddammit!” he hisses, falling over and rolling in pain.

Two of my guards hop from a black BMW, rushing this way, so I leave him to them.

I’ll deal with him later. Slowly. Publicly.

The moment my eyes pop up again, footsteps echo from the entrance, and I lift my gun, pointing it at the edge of the door, finger on the trigger, ready to unload this bitch on the next traitor to step out of this place.

None other than Maddoc Brayshaw barrels out, his head yanking in every direction, gaze landing on mine. He stiffens, his arm flying out in attempt to block the next person, to protect them. “Don’t!” he screams as I look down the line, ready to fire my next bullet right behind the eyes of his first family member to appear.

“Enzo, no!” my wife screams, and my muscles lock.

Maddoc is forced to trust her demand will work as he reaches back, gripping someone, and then they start running. One by one his crew files out of the building and my feet move, carrying me to my bride.

“What the fuck is happening in there?” I shout, reaching her and spinning her around so her front is pressed to Mino, who stays plastered there, the two of us creating a barrier around her.

If someone is going to shoot at us, it will be him or me who takes the bullet. Not her.

Never her.

Rounding the SUV, we duck down, and I take a moment to scan the area. “Talk to me, wife. What the fuck is happening? Who are we shooting? Do the Brays need to die?”

When I get no response, I look beside me. She’s beaming at something ahead, and Mino and I follow her line of sight.

“What the Freaky Friday?” he mumbles, looking from Boston to the alternate universe version of her running down the steps.

I raise a brow at my bride, and she chuckles, the sound thick and throaty, and I can’t help it. I take her by the chin and haul her mouth to mine. I kiss her hard, biting down roughly but without breaking the skin. “You’re in so much trouble, Little Bride.”

Her smile is slow, and she laughs again. “I know.”

Captain Brayshaw is right behind his woman, dragging something from behind him.

Not something…someone.

He’s dragging them by the foot, their body and skull bouncing off each step as he rushes down, his free hand folded in his girl’s, like they’re out on a Saturday fucking stroll, and I’m about ready to chop all their heads off for going along with what had to have been Boston’s idea.

Had she done what she was told like a good girl, Bastian would have slid into the front seat of her car at the first stop sign outside of the Fikile estate, but my wife is no good girl.

I should have seen something coming a mile away.

Captain bends, hauling the body into his arms before dumping the guy in the trunk of a small, white piece of shit with a dented front end. A beater, untraceable car, if I had to guess, but he no sooner gets the trunk latched when several guards rush form the building, guns raised and spraying bullets across the entire parking lot without caution.

“Down,” I growl, pushing Boston lower and hugging my body around her, Mino’s bullets whistling past my ear as he fires back. “Baby, crawl to the side and get in the back seat of the car behind this one. Lay on the floorboard and my men will get you out.”

“Philip is working with someone from the union,” she rushes. “Trust no one, baby,” she says, kissing my cheek before following my orders.

“She really thinks you weren’t already aware there was another cock in the house?” Mino grins, peeking around the car to count heads.

The moment I see her feet disappear under the car door, I pull out my weapons. “She’s going to be the death of me.”

“Without a doubt.” Mino scoffs, adding a few extra mags to his pocket. “Ready?”

One curt nod is all he needs.

We shoot to our feet in unison, firing from both hands, and force our way forward.

No one fucks with our family and lives to talk about it.

“No survivors.”

Mino smirks, unloading the clip from the gun in his left fist with one hand, his knee flying up to snap the new one in place, still shooting from the one in his right. “Not a fucking one.”

Boston

I climb into the back seat, quickly opening the opposite door and climb back out, tiptoeing toward the rear bumper of the fourth car and coming to a halt, knife slipped from my sleeve and forearm slanted so it’s crossed over my face, ready to jab out for a deadly blow, only to come face-to-face with Raven Brayshaw…in the exact same position as me, a switchblade tight in her fist.

She raises a brow then faces forward, frowning. “Shit, we got more coming in from the right. We gotta move, Big Man.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Maddoc growls from his place a few cars over.

Raven bolts and he growls, following her every step.

I spin, crouching low, and run past two of our own vehicles. One of our guys swivels, AK pointed at my head.

“Mrs. Fikile!” he shouts, pointing his weapon forward and taking several steps backward, in an attempt to guard me. “Stay back!” he worries. “Sir, I’ve got her.”

Fuck! He’s using his comm!

“Boston!” is screamed across the lot, and I wince. I don’t think he’s ever called me by my name.

So. Much. Trouble.

The guard reaches for my hand, and I roll my eyes as I dash across the yard, hiding behind a dumpster, and pull out the gun Enzo gifted me. I choose the guy closest to my husband and fire.

Enzo’s head whips my way, and he yanks back, watching as the man crumbles to his knees. I make a show of blowing on the gun like they do in the movies, knowing if he inspects my target closer—he absolutely will when all is said and done—he’ll find the bullet is perfectly placed, dead center in the man’s forehead.

He shakes his head, ducking when a guy charges at him, delivering a deadly blow with his heavy fist.

“Enzo Fikile!” booms over a load speaker, and everyone settles, the gunfire pausing. “Stand. Down.”

Ice runs through my veins at the voice, because it’s one I know well.

No way he turned against us, and by us…I mean the Fikile family, and by extension my father.

“Get the fuck out here and explain yourself!” Enzo demands, spitting to the side.

“And get shot by the forty-seven men you have surrounding this place? Or the three snipers now on the roof?” the traitor deadpans.

I look up and sure enough, bandana-wielding men are right there, not bothering to hide their big-ass guns they’ve got perched on the old brick structure.

Another car comes to a screeching halt somewhere behind us, and when I peek over, I curse.

Rocklin and the other Greyson girls file out, along with all the rest of their gang.

Bastian stays at my sister’s side; Hayze trails Bronx as she runs full sprint in six-inch heels through the parking lot, her white gown now cut all the way to her hip. To her left, I spot Damiano, and my pulse thrums manically when I realize where he’s headed.

If my sister is in on this…

I swallow the thought, breathing deep as I train my gun on the back of his head, watching to see if he dares to pull a weapon as he rushes toward my husband.

Enzo sees him coming and doesn’t bother angling his body, so he must not see him as a threat of any kind. Still, I keep my weapon poised as they exchange words I can’t hear, and then Dom is rushing toward the black car at the farthest edge. When he reaches inside, pulling someone out by the hand, I frown. Katana.

She looks frazzled, staring up at him with confused, watery eyes, but she allows him to lead her back to the car they pulled up in and stuff her inside.

He turns, holding guard against the window.

What is that about?

“Hey, so.” I jolt, spinning my arm, dagger flying out, but my wrist is caught with faster than fast reflexes and then I’m glaring up at Royce Brayshaw. “Damn, girl. Settle down. This face is too pretty to be cut up.”

I tear myself free, putting space between us, and he grins my way.

The gunfire starts up again and I look to find Enzo is at the doors. His back is pressed to the wall beside it, Mino already taking slow steps inside the winery, as the rest of the Fikile soldiers inch forward in a widespread line. One more glance around and I notice my sister, Bastian, and the rest of the girls are nowhere to be found, but I don’t have time to worry about that as Enzo is inching closer to the threshold of the building.

I chew my inner cheek, searching for a way to follow, knowing our men will never allow me to pass if it means putting me in danger. None of them want to die by their boss’s hand today. “Shit,” I hiss.

“As I was about to say,” Royce starts talking again. “I know it’s not really the time, but since we’re hanging out together while getting shot at and shit, gotta shoot my shot.” He lifts his gun, firing without looking, and I hear two hard thumps in quick succession. “No pun intended.” He grins, then gets serious. “You’re a twin, right?”

I scoff, pushing onto my toes and slowly creeping around the right side of the cement blocks.

“Can you, like, read each other’s minds?” he presses.

“What?” I whisper, aiming for one of Mitchell’s men who’s sneaking along the trunks of the cars. I throw my knife, and it cuts through his suit, jamming into his upper arm.

“Fuck!” he shouts, just loud enough for a Fikile soldier to hear.

He goes down a second later.

“I’m just trying to figure out what kind of shit is about to be pulled on me, you know?” The damn annoying, tattooed brother keeps going. “I might need to step up my game, and that’s gonna be hard. My game is on point already.”

“Not the time, Ponyboy!” Raven shouts from somewhere.

“Well?” he nudges, coming around the opposite side and running to the next row of vehicles in sync with me.

I shoot him a glare. “You’re serious?”

“Duh. You saw my girl. You think she’s just walking around with a half-moon stuck inside her? I got two little fuckers in there.”

“No.” Jackass. “I can’t read her mind.” When he smiles wider than any man who’s getting shot at should, I decide to add, “But we don’t have to read minds. We just look at each other and know what the other one is thinking.”

“But, like, there’s no guarantee they’ll be just like me, right? Maybe they’ll be all fucking rainbows and shit like my girl?”

“Nope. The dad’s genes are stronger when there are two.” I feed him the most bullshit I can think of. “They will be exactly like you but doubled the trouble.”

He looks terrified now…and it has nothing to do with the people attacking us. “I’m so fucked.”

“Hey, Boston!” Raven shouts.

“What?!”

“Stop fucking with my family!”

“Sure!” I smile. “Right after we finish cleaning up the mess you couldn’t.”

“Bitch,” she hisses to herself, and a smirk pulls at my lips.

Right back at you.

“Fikile soldiers, stand down!” Mino’s voice booms across the lot, and I stand up straight, muscles hunched tight as I wait to see what happens next.

First, I hear the screams and shouts, the threats and growled warnings, though none of them come from my man.

Our men have formed an impenetrable wall across the entire space, so I step from around the barrier, walking between a row of vehicles, and move closer. To my surprise, the Brayshaws fall in line beside me, a different guy popping out of nowhere that I’ve never seen with them before.

“That’s Mac,” Royce whispers as if I care, fighting a smile when Raven elbows him in the stomach.

A moment later, Enzo appears and every muscle in my body relaxes when I see he’s standing as tall and as strong as ever.

Enzo steps out like a motherfucking dark angel. His all-black tux still pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. If there’s blood on it, you’d never know. It’s that dark.

And thrashing from the unbreakable grip he has on the back of the man’s neck is none other than Torin Bandoni, king of the south. And Bronx’s fucking father.

I hold my breath, unsure how this is going to play out and knowing there is only one move to be made. Treachery is intolerable.

Touching another man’s wife is a death sentence.

While he may not have come for me himself, he colluded with the Mitchells and that’s what brought us here.

Enzo is going to kill him, there is no doubt in my mind, and then what? He’s hunted by the other members of the union?

By the girls of Greyson?

My sister?

As if summoned by my thoughts, she and Bastian step around the corner, and while she gives nothing away, I know she’s worried, but for whom?

Suddenly, the ease I felt is replaced with panic. It sweeps in like a tidal wave and I falter, shocked when the one who keeps me on my feet is the raven-haired girl whose hair matches her name.

Icy eyes meet mine and hold. “Never let them see you sweat,” she hisses, though her mouth never so much as moves.

I swallow, face forward, and lift my chin high.

“Explain yourself,” Enzo demands as he tosses Torin to the ground like a weightless rag doll.

The fit, fifty-something-year-old swiftly climbs back to his feet, spinning and baring his bloody teeth at my husband. “To you? Never. You don’t even belong here, swooping in and taking land in the east as if it’s not already spoken for.”

Enzo appears unfazed, blinking at the bastard. “You think that gives you the right to go against me when I have the support of the other districts, yours included, though now I see that was for a different purpose.”

“You are really fucking dense, you know that?” Torin spits. “You have no right to claim the other Revenaw heir. Our allies belong within our own people. And Mitchell can offer her⁠—”

Enzo shoots his kneecap.

Bandoni groans in pain, but other than a slight stumble, the tough asshole stays on his feet. “The contract has been voided.”

“I know. It was at my request,” Enzo announces.

At that, Torin’s head yanks to the left, landing on Bastian.

Bastian only cocks his head, his face a stony mask.

Okay, so Torin didn’t know that?

“Well, that’s no matter.” Torin stands taller, a small smile on his lips. “Then I’ve broken no rules as there is no longer a contract. The girl is free to choose, and before those…whoever the fuck those dirtbags were that showed up and attacked unwarranted…she made her decision. It. Wasn’t. You.”

Enzo doesn’t have to scan the crowd; those golden eyes find me instantly. “Come.”

I’m already moving before his command, and I don’t stop until I’m right in front of him.

Torin’s head snaps between us, but I don’t look away from Enzo as he lifts my left hand, taking the tip of my glove in his teeth and slowly peeling it off. His fingers intertwine with mine and he kisses the spot his name is displayed, finally turning to look at the man across from us. “She has chosen. Months ago. She is not my fiancée. She is my wife.”

I do look over this time, the look of horror that reshapes Torin’s face is as amusing as it is disappointing.

It’s as I said, to touch another’s wife is a death sentence.

A literal rule, written out and all.

Torin’s nostrils flare, eyes snapping across the space, taking in all the people rallying around, and even to my own eyes, it’s unclear who would stand with whom, if it came down to it.

Bandoni is a founding family member and part of the union, after all.

Enzo isn’t.

I see the moment Torin makes a decision, and I steel my spine as I wait to learn what it is.

He creeps, more like hobbles, closer, and unease washes over me. “You think I don’t know your secret?” he hisses, attempting to keep his voice low. “I do, and it will make all of this go away when the others learn what you’ve been hiding. Or should I say…who.”

I stiffen despite my best efforts, slowly, as secretly as possible, moving my finger to the trigger of my weapon. He knows of Katana.

He knows Enzo is hiding the girl they’ve searched over a decade for.

It might be my husband whose blood fills these drains today after all.

I can’t let that happen.

A warm hand presses to the back of mine in that moment and I take a deep breath.

He doesn’t want me to shoot.

But what he doesn’t seem to understand is that I’ll have to.

If he threatens the life of my husband, he has to die.

He will die, consequences be damned.

But then Enzo chuckles, so low and dark a chill licks down my spine.

The sound makes Torin feel unsettled, a small frown making the wrinkles along his temples deepen, and my mind begins to swim, trying to connect the dots I didn’t see.

Enzo takes small steps closer to the man I’ve known my entire life and gets right into his face. “Okay, Bandoni. We will do this your way. Let’s see whose secret does the most damage, shall we?”

Enzo lifts his hand in the air, flicking two fingers, and when I turn, I watch as Damiano silently helps Katana from the car.

I jerk forward, eyes wide, but Mino catches me around the waist, whispering in my ear. “Not yet, tiny dancer.”

My lips tremble and press into a firm line as I glance back at Enzo.

“Tell me, Torin.” He cocks his head. “Did you use the same satellite to hide my wife’s location today as you did when helping get his out?”

My mind swirls, but then movement to my left catches my attention.

My eyes move to Katana as she reaches my side, her entire body trembling as she waits to find out what’s about to happen, having no idea her identity is about to be exposed, flipping her already fragile existence on its axis. She’ll be seen for what she is, weak. While she is slowly getting stronger, mentally and physically, she is in no shape to lead. She’ll need more time, and they won’t give it to her.

The eastern seat will be vacated.

Families will fight and wars will begin until one person takes that top spot.

If the men of our world don’t rally and overthrow the Greyson girls as a whole, erasing everything my sister and the girls have spent their lives training for.

She doesn’t deserve that.

She is the chosen, and I know what it feels like not to be enough.

I won’t allow that to happen to her.

Reaching over, I take her hand, and she threads her fingers through mine, her grip firm and trembling.

“You have no proof,” is hissed, and my attention snaps back to Torin.

Proof. Proof of what?

Wait.

Satellite.

Hiding someone’s wife.

“Holy shit,” I breathe, and his eyes snap to mine. “It was you.”

Torin’s face falls. His eyes moving to Katana for the first time and back to Enzo. “We can come to an arrangement.”

“Arrangement. Sure. Here it is. You tell my secret first and I reveal yours second, just in time for our new audience.”

I glance around, finding the other members of the union have been called in, all the founding families’ leaders standing off to the side with their respective guards.

Shit. Twisting slightly, I look up over my shoulder at Mino.

He meets my stare with an unflinching gaze, but his body is stiff at my back, so I know he’s not as calm as he wants everyone to believe.

“Mino,” I whisper, unable to hide the worry from my voice.

“Still not yet, baby.” He presses his chin against my temple in reassurance and I force myself to face forward.

Enzo’s expression is dark, and he stands tall, his jaw sharp and eyes piercing as he shouts across the space. “Torin and I have something to share and he’s going to go first.”

I tug mine and Katana’s joined hands up between us and she huddles closer, shaking even harder now.

Torin pales, his face falling as he spins to face the others. He hesitates a moment, and then his mouth snaps open and takes in a sharp breath as the truth begins to tumble from his lips.

“Enzo Fikile⁠—”

“Is protecting his family. As am I.”

Torin’s eyes shoot wide, along with the rest of ours, because that voice. That thick, raspy tone is so easily recognizable. There is no mistaking who it belongs to.

Torin pales, the words clearly holding a deeper meaning to him, and swiftly spins to follow the sound, but he sees her too late.

The arrow has already left her nock of the bow. It flies through the air at the perfect downward trajectory, splitting straight into the dead center of Torin’s chest.

He gasps, sways, then falls to his knees.

He slumps over and all eyes snap to the rooftop.

Slowly, she stands, the bow lowering to her side, sun setting right behind her and illuminating her silhouette. She stands there, staring this way for several silent seconds, before she spins and walks away.

I close my eyes, hating this for her, but admittedly relieved.

If there is one person who will face no consequence today for ending the man who made a traitorous move without a proper investigation by the other founding families?

It’s his very own daughter.

The cleanup crews of the underground crime families are the true magic makers.

Two hours and half a bottle of chardonnay later, the winery is as spotless as it was when I arrived this afternoon.

The union is gone, my sister and the others too, having taken a silent, stone-faced Bronx back to the mansion. I have no idea how she’s going to deal with having taken out her own father, but something tells me there’s a reason it was her who took him down tonight, and at the very moment she chose to do so.

Enzo shakes hands with Carlos Vicente, the owner of the winery, and stalks toward me, Mino falling in line beside him. Once in front of me, he reaches out and grips my hips, hauling me off the tailgate of the black truck the Brayshaws and I have been sitting in.

“Where’s Katana?” Mino looks around.

“Passed out in the back seat.” I jerk my head toward the car I rode here in. “Damiano is in the driver seat.” I raise a brow in question, but Enzo only winks in response.

Enzo glances over my shoulder, face hardening. “I’m tempted to threaten you right about now.”

I glance back just as Maddoc nods and hops down from where he was sitting on the hood.

He walks right up to us, holding his hand out.

Enzo stares at him for several silent seconds longer, then finally slaps his hand in Maddoc’s.

“She did good,” Maddoc states, gaze sliding my way. “Fearless.”

Enzo opens his mouth to speak just as several loud bangs sound and a muffled shout follows.

Our frowns match as we look around, settling on Royce when a manic laugh leaves him and he hops over the side of the truck, holding on to his belt buckle as he sinks his teeth in his lower lip.

He walks toward the old, broken-down white car, and we shuffle closer. He pops the trunk and my mouth drops open with a laugh.

Enzo glares down at the man who shuts up quick at the sight of us all. Sweat pouring from his temples and a black eye so swollen, there is no way he can see out of it. Enzo’s head snaps toward Royce. “You wanted Nicholas Galley this whole time? Why?” he demands.

“Because his name isn’t Nicholas Galley,” Raven shouts, slowly making her way over.

“Bullshit,” Enzo mumbles, his mind likely racing.

“Christof Galley has no blood relatives. The paper trail began and ended with his mysterious, sudden arrival of a nephew.” Raven slides up, bracing her hands on the edge of the trunk and staring down at the guy inside it.

“Who is he?” Enzo forces past clenched teeth.

She smirks, cocking her head when fake Nicholas’s eyes go wide. “His name is Collins Graven. We exiled him from the States, kept tabs to make sure he’d never come back, but our PI lost track of him a while back.”

“Let me guess, last whereabouts you had were Costa Rica?”

“Ding, ding.”

Collins opens his mouth, but Maddoc is done listening. He slams the trunk closed and wraps his arm around his girl. He tries to hide it, but there’s a visible weight lifted from his shoulders that this man’s capture offers him. Maybe one day I’ll hear the story of what happened back in Brayshaw.

Today, though, I have other plans.

I tug on Enzo’s hand, leading him to our vehicle, Mino instantly following behind. “Later, Brayshaws.”

They wave and grunt their goodbyes, but we’re three feet from the car when Victoria calls out to me.

“Wait!” She jogs over.

She smiles, stepping in close as if to hug me, and Enzo turns toward Mino. Her hand shoots out then, a small blade reflecting off the car light, and I dart forward, catching her around the wrist.

She seems shocked but smiles as if impressed.

Me not so much. I tighten my hold, yanking her to me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Enzo is tense, hand on his weapon once more as the others move closer in my peripheral.

Victoria simply grins. “It’s only fair.”

I frown, then look over her shoulder, at the spot on her man’s neck that I barley punctured.

But I mean…

I let go, and she nicks his hand.

Enzo’s lips pull back in a snarl, his glare whipping my way.

“I don’t want to owe her one.” I lift a shoulder. “Now we’re even.”

He scoffs, hauling me into him, and I take his hand, pressing over the weak little cut she gave him, letting the blood soak into my skin while keeping any more from slipping free.

“Let’s go before anyone else gets any ideas. We’ve got a ceremony to get to.”

“Seriously?!” Raven calls. “You’re still getting married today? After all this?”

“Hell, yeah.” I hop inside, then crawl over Enzo before he can close us inside. “You want to come?”

He slams the door, and I laugh, dropping back on the seat.

“Told you it would be late by the time we made it to the altar.” Mino grins. “Sneaky little shit.”

I laugh and to my surprise, Enzo joins in.

This would probably sound really weird if I said it out loud, but today was a good day.

I can’t wait until he sees what I have in store for him next.