What the hell happened here?
As terror, nausea, and panic choke the air from my lungs, my gaze darts from dead face to dead face while I pray Rory isn’t among them.
Air gushes from my lungs once I realize he’s not.
A bullet whizzes past my ears, warping my sense of hearing. Too late, I drop to the ground, my satin-covered knees hitting the stone floor. I crawl toward the edge of the barricade, heart in my mouth as I peer around it to the middle of the room.
The fog has begun to dissipate. Some corners are still enveloped in smoky shadow, but the center gradually comes into sharper focus.
Oh, god.
There.
Rory. Leo. They’re…
Locked in a savage fight.
Heart in my throat, I can’t look away from the grisly sight of the two men who’ve shaped my life most exchanging fists and gunfire.
An involuntary gasp escapes my mouth when Rory backhands Leo, gun in hand.
Leo takes it without complaint, blood spilling from a newly split lip. He lets out a roar and tackles Rory to the floor, knocking the gun out of Rory’s hand in the scuffle.
“No!” My cry is lost under the volume of the bedlam unfolding around me.
Rory and Leo tousle to the ground in an all-out brawl.
Around them, other Kings are locked in fights with Petrov soldiers.
On the altar, two Petrovs grab Maksim’s body and drag his corpse toward an exit, smearing a trail of his blood as they go.
But I can’t take my eyes off Rory and Leo. Not for a second.
Leo punches Rory once. Twice. With each blow, my chest tightens.
Determined grunts slip from Leo’s chest, and the awful slam of his fist every time he punches Rory’s face is killing me.
Rory bucks him off and lunges for his discarded weapon. As he stretches out his arm, his face contorts in pain.
His chest… There’s a literal hole in his chest, and he still came. He should be in a hospital, but he found out Leo was marrying me off today and showed up here to rescue me.
Just like that cursed night at the bookstore, the amount of love swelling in my chest threatens to overwhelm me.
This night can’t end the same way. This time, I have to help him.
I creep toward the fight, only to freeze when Leo straightens to full height. He kicks Rory’s gun out of reach and nails him in the chest with the tip of his hard-soled Italian leather shoe.
Fire eats up my blood.
It’s one thing when that psycho hurts me.
Watching him hurt my man turns me homicidal.
I dive out from behind the De Luca barricade, eyes locked on Rory’s gun still skidding across the marble floor. It hits the bottom stair of the altar, and I’m there to snatch it up.
Without another thought, I get my hands around the gun and aim for Leo’s back.
My hands shake, and I don’t have a clear shot, but that’s not going to hold me back.
