The Mafia Boss’s Bride Vanished on Their Wedding Night

"Marco!" Isabella shrieked into the smoke, her voice raw with terror. "Marco, help him!"

The remnants of Alessandro’s elite guard breached the hall from the subterranean tunnels, sweeping the room with overwhelming firepower, neutralizing the remaining attackers within sixty seconds of brutal violence.

The smoke began to clear, revealing the carnage of the great hall.

Marco ran up, his rifle smoking, his face turning pale as he saw his don lying motionless in a pool of his own blood on the floor. "Boss! Jesus Christ, Boss!"

"Get the doctor!" Isabella screamed, her tears cutting tracks through the soot on her cheeks. She was on her knees, pressing both hands against the gaping wound just below Alessandro’s shoulder blade, desperate to stop the pumping crimson tide. "Get the medical kit! Move, damn you!"

For the next four hours, Isabella didn't leave his side.

In the manor’s private surgical suite, the syndicate’s underground doctor worked under halogen lamps to extract the shattered bullet and repair the torn artery. Isabella refused to leave the room. She washed the blood from Alessandro’s chest, held the retractors with steady hands when the nurse fainted, and watched the steady beep of the heart monitor like a hawk guarding its nest.

When the surgery was finished and the doctor declared him stable, Isabella sat in the leather chair beside his bed, holding his limp, cold hand between both of hers.

She looked at him—the ruthless monster the world feared. He had taken a bullet for her. He had thrown himself into the path of death without a second of hesitation, solely to ensure she drew her next breath.

The drugs began to wear off as the pale dawn light filtered through the reinforced glass windows.

Alessandro’s eyelids fluttered. A low rasp tore from his dry throat.

"Water..."

Isabella instantly jumped up, pouring a glass of water, guiding the straw to his lips, supporting his head with her forearm. "Easy. Take it easy. You were shot."

Alessandro drank greedily, then sank back into the pillows, his gray eyes slowly focusing on her. He took in her blood-stained clothes, her swollen eyes, the exhaustion etched into every line of her beautiful face.

"You're still here," he whispered, his voice weak, barely audible. "You had your gun. You had the keys to the garage. You could have run."

Isabella let out a broken, half-sob, half-laugh, tears spilling over her eyelashes. She reached out, her trembling palm cupping his rough, bearded cheek.

"You idiot," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Where would I run? The only man who protects me is lying in this bed bleeding for me."

Alessandro’s hand rose slowly, his large fingers curling around her wrist, feeling the frantic, steady thrum of her pulse.

"I fell in love with you three years ago, Isabella," he confessed, the vulnerability stripping away every defense he had built over a lifetime of syndicate warfare. "At the opera. You were sitting in your family's box, looking miserable in a red dress. You saw an usher drop his tray, and while the rest of high society laughed, you got down on your knees in that silk gown and helped him pick up the glasses. You had a soul in a world where everyone else had sold theirs."

He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength.

"I swore to myself that night that I would tear down heaven and earth to keep that soul safe from the monsters around you. Even if that monster was me."

Isabella leaned forward, unable to fight the tide any longer. She pressed her lips to his—gently, reverently, tasting the salt of her tears and the heat of his skin. Alessandro groaned into the kiss, his hand pulling her closer, deepening the embrace with an intensity that burned away the fear, the pain, and the shadows of the past.

When she finally pulled back, resting her forehead against his, her dark eyes were filled with an unshakeable, lethal resolve.

"Enzo Russo and my father tried to kill you," she said, her voice dropping into a register of cold, absolute vengeance. "How do we destroy them?"

Alessandro looked at his bride, a dark, dangerous smile touching his lips.