Page 38 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)

VINCENZO

Four years ago

Love had a way of settling the heart, even amidst the worst of wars.

We both knew it was coming, sparkled from the vows we whispered in a worn-down chapel half a day’s drive up north. We knew what we’d done, and yet not an ounce of regret or fear had stopped us.

Camila’s ragged breath still danced along my collarbone.

The smell of rose oil and my cologne clung to her skin, trapped under the scent of sex and pleasure. Damn, I wished I could bottle it up.

Camila leaned into me, her head resting on my chest, our legs tangled beneath the sheets like the world beyond this bed didn’t exist. Danger had no say in here tonight.

“We should eat,” she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep and the kind of satisfaction only a couple of orgasms could bring.

“We are eating,” I said, tracing my fingers down the line of her spine. “I ate every one of your moans, and I’m not even close to being full.”

She laughed, and I swear my heart skipped an entire beat at the melodic sound.

Gently, I caught her chin between my fingers and tilted her face up.

Her long lashes were still damp from the shower, or maybe the tears that sprung down her face from coming so damn hard.

I took in the delicious sight of her lips that had fallen apart, inviting me in, ruined by how hard I’d kissed them.

“You’re not getting rid of me now,” I told her.

“The thought never crossed my mind, Husband ,” she replied, eyes bright despite their natural darkness.

“I’m serious, Camila.”

She arched her brow in that defiance I loved to see her wear. “You have a terrible habit of sounding serious when you’re half-naked. I’m not sure it suits you.”

“It’s too late to be picking out my faults. You’ll just have to live with them now.” My thumb brushed her cheek, tracing the blush that had permanently set there. “No one is taking away what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?” She repeated in fake indignation, “So, now I’m a thing that you own?”

“No, Amore. My love. You’re everything.”

I sealed that truth with a kiss on her bruised lips, not leaving any space for doubt or questioning.

“What if they force your hand?” She asked the question that I knew had been plaguing her mind since we left two days ago.

“I’d rather lose the name, the empire, everything , than lose you. I can never lose you.”

We stayed there a little longer, soaking in the stillness we’d stolen, preparing for the storm we knew was brewing on the horizon.

Wrong!

How fucking wrong could I have been in that assessment? They were already here.

The screech of tires against gravel gave way to their presence, making Camila spring up into a sitting position in bed.

The car doors slammed shut without ceremony, rapid footsteps best suited for a regiment and loud voices came next.

The commotion downstairs resembled the slow start of a war.

Men shouting demands in different languages while guns kicked their safeties off, pumping bullets into chambers and ready to fire.

I was out of bed under a blink, pulling my pants on and grabbing the gun I kept in the drawer. Camila stood in the doorway wearing nothing but my shirt, her hands trembling as she buttoned it all crooked.

“Stay behind me,” I said.

“Vincenzo–”

“ Behind me , Camila.” It wasn’t a shout, more like a glaring warning for her safety.

We moved swiftly through the hallway, every sound intensifying as we neared the staircase. I took a peek around the corner. Diego and Camila’s father stood at the foot of the staircase like some executioner stepped out of Hell, flanked by his son and half the fucking Cartel.

My father was already in the Grand Hall, surrounded by our men. Gabriel was to his right, his shoulders tense while his unsettlingly blue eyes tracked every single movement around them.

Fabrizio and Fabio had taken position, too, weapons drawn and ready for the fight they knew was coming. Tension laced the air, making it hard to breathe without repercussions.

Camila froze behind me, her eyes bulging as she widened them in disbelief. How had they gotten here so fast?

“Give her up,” Diego’s father said without raising his voice. His Spanish accent curled around the words like a vice, slow and venomous. “This ends tonight.”

“She’s my wife,” I said, stepping down the first step and placing myself in their line of fire, three red dots painting my otherwise unblemished skin, “She’s not a possession, and she’s definitely not yours to take.”

He stared at me as if I’d spat on his shoes and slapped him across the face in one single move.

“My daughter’s blood is too precious to be diluted by the filth that runs through yours,” he said.

“You’ve dirtied her name long enough. Sign the annulment,” He threw a pile of papers onto the steps, the pages scattering on the marble-like leaves in the wind, “or I swear to God, Vincenzo, I will take her from here in pieces, and you won’t live to count them. ”

“She’s not a child,” I growled. “You can’t leash her anymore.”

“She’s a Cartel princess,” he snapped. “You think you’re the first bastard who’s tried to take her? She doesn’t belong to you. She belongs to the family, and the family says this ends right now.”

My father didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The way his disapproval dripped off his gaze towards me was a clear message of his position on this.

This wasn’t just about Camila. This was about the empire. About the barricade the Mafia had set for the drugs the Cartel tried to sneak in. For the denial my father had been so adamant about slapping across their faces when they approached him for a deal.

And now we were paying the price for their fall-outs.

Camila took a step closer. I felt her at my back, her nails digging into my shoulder in warning.

“Vincenzo–” She pleaded, and when I turned around, a fucking sicario pushed his muzzle so far into her skin it would leave a bruise.

“Don’t,” I said, my tone in a gravel warning that bled a promise of death if he took her away from me.

He clasped his dirty hand around her arms and guided her down the stairs until she was tucked behind Diego. They were forcing my hand with the threat on her life.

My father stepped forward, his face carved in stone, cold and calculating, but I knew the hell that burned under that surface. I’d felt that same wrath on my skin more times than I could count.

“You’ll sign,” he demanded. “Do it. Now. We are not dying over your stupidity.”

“I can’t lose you,” I whispered to myself, my eyes locking on the fucker whose hand sullied her skin, gripping so tight she winced under his grasp.

Motherfucker.

I knew I’d already lost the moment my father took their side. But I’d be damned if I wouldn’t take as many of them down with me as I possibly could. Especially the one touching her like she was a goddamn animal.

My father’s voice didn’t rise a single decibel, but he looked at me like I was a child again, needing correction.

I knelt. Picked up the pen from the ground like it weighed a hundred fucking pounds and signed the damn papers.

Camila sobbed behind her brother. A quiet, broken thing that ripped my chest open and bared my heart for everyone to see. Dying with each scribble of this damn pen in my hand.

Diego grabbed her arm and started dragging her toward the door, muttering something into her ear that I knew to be admonishment for marrying me.

And before I could follow them all the way to the front door, the first shot fired.

Chaos unraveled instantly. Screams and gunfire, death and destruction. Fabio fell back with a bullet to his shoulder while Fabrizio tackled someone behind a column. Blood marred the white floor, tainting it with the sins of our fucking fathers.

Two sicarios were on me next, strong and determined, with orders to kill at will. But my rage came from a spot that bred fire into every punch.

Gabriel was already moving. I saw him bring down one, then two sicarios while my father shouted orders at his men. A man lunged toward him, tackling him to the ground and pinning him over a puddle of blood that spilled from a dead Colombian.

Gabriel was right next to them, fighting another two off himself with his fists. A clean knockout had the guy out cold on the floor, allowing him to pick his gun back up.

He looked at the sicario pinning our father to the ground and relaxed his stance, giving Arrio, Camila’s father, enough time to march over towards them like he’d already won this battle. He raised his gun, and Gabriel froze in his place.

“This is the day you die,” He barked towards our father.

I watched as Gabriel stood aside, lowering his gun and giving way and permission for Arrio Alcaráz to fire at will.

Time slowed almost to a standstill, and I fought the man off me to get to them. Too little too late.

The cartel Kingpin didn’t even miss a fucking beat.

The echo of that shot rang out in my head for hours after. Our father fell back, a bullet straight to the skull left no possibility for survival.

Rage had me pushing through the men who tried to stop me from getting to the Cartel lord who had just murdered my father in front of me. But as soon as I reached him, he spun on his heel, pushing a blade against my throat.

“Now I’ll bleed her name out of you,” He hissed straight into my face.

He pressed down. Cold steel biting into my skin as he dragged his dagger down my skin. I felt the flesh part, his hot breath fanning my face while blood poured down my neck and onto my naked chest. Camila’s voice was screaming in my head even though she wasn’t there anymore.

Then, blood exploded across my face. I didn’t even hear the sound of his skull cracking as Gabriel bashed it open with the back of an AK-47.

Arrio’s body hit the floor at my feet while I grasped my throat before following him down.

Gabriel stood over us, his eyes wild and unsteady.

He’d saved me. He’d saved me.

But I couldn’t look at him the same.

Not after letting our father die.

Not after stepping aside like he’d been waiting for it.

Our eyes met, and I hated him even more. I loved him. I fucking owed him. And yet, I never wanted to speak to him again.

Diego dropped to his knees beside his father’s corpse, eyes dark with the grief of death. It was more shock than the pain of loss. That motherfucker had it coming to him sooner or later, and his only son couldn’t have been blind to the fact.

“I swear,” he spat, his voice cracking with whatever emotion an abused son could feel for his father’s perishing, his finger sharply pointed at Gabriel, “I’ll make you suffer.

I’ll kill everything you’ve loved and everything you will ever dare to love in your fucking future.

Write my words in stone, Gabriel. I will haunt you to infinity. ”

Camila was gone.

My father was gone.

The only thing I had left? Was the brother I never asked for.