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Francesca’s eyes meet me in the fraction of a second before we are hit and the fear in them cracks my heart. She should be safe and protected. She may have been born into this world, but she was born to be revered in it, not to be on the front line facing guns and thugs. I swear a silent oath to myself that I will get her out of this safely and it is as if she hears my thoughts because the fear in her expression is mellowed slightly by a look that conveys trust. Faith that she will be safe so long as I am there.

Instead of scrunching my eyes shut on impact, I’m unable to rip my gaze from her body as it is rag-dolled from one side to the other, kept from hurtling into the door by the seatbelt across her body.

Searing pain shoots through my left shoulder as my body slams against the car door, but adrenalin has me ignoring it and moving swiftly to unfasten my seatbelt and then Francesca’s as soon as our spinning car crashes to a halt on its side.

Climbing between the front seats, I help Connor kick out the cracked windshield and then reach behind me to drag Francesca through the seats and out through the hole where the glass was. Elio follows one hand on her back, pushing her along after me.

Gunfire begins almost immediately in rapid bursts that rip through the night.

I chance a look across at our other two cars and see that Matty’s car now sits on its roof, wheels still spinning in the air, but the car Massimo was in remains the right way up.

Everyone appears to be present and accounted for, crouching behind our vehicles and returning fire where possible.

“Fuck!” Bluey’s voice roars through the darkness and I know he has been hit.

“No, no, no, no!” Massimo’s voice follows and sensing weakness, our enemy focuses on our middle car.

“Hold here,” I whisper to Elio urgently. “I’m going to cover Massi and Bluey. Get Francesca to those trees if they move in.” I point to a cluster of large trees that will provide sparse coverage, but in the absence of other options appears the safest place for her.

He nods once and focuses over the upturned car at the bullets flying towards us.

Half expecting white hot nuggets of metal to punch holes in my body, I sprint from our car to crouch behind Massimo’s. It only takes a few seconds, but my senses are alight and my hair stands on end as I dash past death.

A bloody wound saturates Bluey’s shirt in red, but a quick inspection shows that the shot went straight through the flesh in his shoulder. He’ll survive this injury, but there is a very real chance he will cop another bullet or 20 if we don’t hold them off.

“Put pressure on it,” I yell to Massimo over the gunfire and he tears his suit jacket off, using it to stem the flow from his friend’s shoulder.

Angling my body to make myself the narrowest target possible, I peep across the bonnet of the car we are using as a shield and count nine gunmen, plus a man loitering near each car ready to jump into the driver’s seat.

We are fucked. I can’t see how we can hold them off. We are caught with our underwear down. Outnumbered. Outarmed. Out of fucking luck.

I’m desperately wracking my brains for some kind of plan that will get us out of here alive when Matty and the groomsmen leave their car as it goes up in flames, dashing to shelter with us.

Breathless, Matty joins me in assessing the situation. “Don’t like our chances, sis,” he says remarkably calmly.

“We hold them off as long as we can and never stop fighting,” I tell him. “No surrender.”

My words turn to ash in my mouth as I look toward the car I left Elio and Francesca behind just in time to see him shove her toward the trees I pointed out earlier. She stumbles in her high heels but is able to run surprisingly fast.

For the first time in my life, I consider if surrendering might be the best option if it only means that the beautiful Bambi-eyed woman will live. But, I hardly have time to absorb the thought when a man in black appeared out of nowhere from behind Matty’s burning car. He sprints past us, firing a few unsuccessful shots in our direction.

Another of the men provides cover for him, sending bullets across the bonnet and rear of the car, preventing us from taking the sprinting man out.

My heart rate must be going berserk, but as I helplessly watch the man reach Francesca just before she can reach the shelter of the trees, it feels like it is pulled back to a slow, deep beat that booms in my ears.

We all stand dumbfounded like cuckolds as Francesca’s assailant twists her into a headlock and promptly holds a huge knife to her throat. He begins to walk her towards us, confident that we will not risk shooting at him while he has her as a shield.

“Jesus. Fuck!” Massimo shouts, looking up from Bluey and realising his best friend has a knife to her throat. His voice carries the fear - that hot sharp steel slicing through veins - that I feel in my bones.

“Over here, all of you,” the knife-wielding piece of shit barks at us, removing his weapon from Francesca’s throat for a second to indicate he wants us all in front of the middle car that Massimo and Bluey were in.

We comply, tossing our semi-automatics to the ground as instructed and he drags Francesca keeping her body between us and him. The one remaining BMW is just a short sprint away from his back and his three men wielding guns move to flank him.

My first instinct is to intervene, but Elio needs to take control. These men, whoever they are, think he is our don and he needs to act accordingly. We are all looking to him for an indication of how the fuck this diabolic situation is going to be handled. He remains still and I watch him with desperate intensity, willing and wishing him to do something. Anything. His eyes shift to meet mine for a fraction of a second and I imbue my gaze with as much meaning as possible, telling him to step the fuck up.

“What are you doing?” Elio asks the man simply.Come on, brother. Put some menace in your voice, for fucksake.

“Showing Miss Rossi the life she has to look forward to if she marries you,” the man spits back. “Never safe; not even around family and friends. Always looking over her shoulder.”