Page 65 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)

MAX

Some wars aren’t fought with bullets, indeed.

One piece of paper.

One fucking piece of paper was all it took to shatter everything. The marriage certificate Camila held in her trembling hands might as well have been a nuclear bomb for the chaos it unleashed.

Standing at the altar as Vincenzo’s best man, I had the perfect view of the destruction, and I witnessed it with a fucking smile on my face.

This wasn’t just relief. It was hope. It was the possibility of the best life I never thought I could have.

I watched my brother’s face cycle through shock, disbelief, and something that looked dangerously close to hope, too, as Camila’s words echoed through the church.

Alison was free.

Free.

The word hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. After all the pain, all the resignation, all the acceptance that I’d lost her forever, she was free and mine for the taking.

But freedom came with a price, and that price was standing at the front of the cathedral with murder in his eyes.

Diego Alcaraz didn’t waste time processing the implications. The moment his sister’s words registered, he was moving with deadly purpose, his sicários flanking him like a pack of hungry wolves.

“Camila!” His voice echoed and amplified, cutting through the chaos of confused guests. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I stepped in front of Alison in a protective stance while the Battaglia men fanned out around the cathedral, slipping into tactical positions, waiting for the war to break out.

Camila turned to face her brother, chin raised defiantly, despite the fear I could see in her eyes. “What I should have done years ago.”

“You think you can just waltz back into our world as if nothing’s happened?” Diego grabbed her arm roughly, and I saw Vincenzo tense across from me. “You’re coming home. Now.”

“No.” Camila yanked her arm free, stepping back toward the altar. “I’m not going anywhere I don’t want to.”

“The hell you’re not.” Diego’s hand moved to his jacket, and I knew exactly what he was reaching for.

But it wasn’t Camila he pulled the gun on.

It was Vincenzo.

“You,” he snarled, pointing the weapon directly at my brother’s chest. “You think you can steal my sister? Make her disappear again? Turn her against her own family?”

The cathedral erupted into screams as people dove for cover behind pews. I could hear the distinctive sound of weapons being drawn all around us as both sides prepared for the chaos we knew was about to ensue.

“Diego, please,” Camila stepped between them, her hands raised. “This isn’t his fault. I chose to leave. I chose to stay away.”

“Because of him!” Diego’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Because he filled your head with ideas about a different life. About abandoning your blood for some fantasy.”

I moved without thinking, stepping in front of Camila and staring down the barrel of Diego’s gun. My nephew couldn’t grow up without a mother. Not when I knew just how destroying that is.

“Diego, put the gun down. Order your men to do the same,” I said, my voice steady, despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. “Now.”

Diego’s eyes narrowed, but the gun didn’t waver. “I’m eager for a shot at you, too, so don’t tempt me, Massimo.”

I took a step forward, pushing Camila further behind me. Through the corner of my eye, I could see small fingers pushing that side door open. His little head popping into the space, innocent curiosity forcing him to peek, even though I was sure his momma told him to stay put.

With one hand up in surrender, I reached for Diego’s gun with the other.

“Don’t be a fucking hero, Max. Get out of my way, or I’ll shoot you to get to that fucking brother of yours.”

“Max, no!” Alison’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

I could see her in my peripheral vision, her wedding dress glistening under the light, beautiful and ethereal, and completely out of place in this violence. She should have been running or taking cover as her brother was trying to do.

Liam had a hold on her wrist, pulling her towards him, but in an instant, Alison yanked herself free.

“Alison, get back,” I growled, not taking my eyes off Diego. The gun steadied in his hand, and I knew he was about to pull the trigger.

“Suit yourself,” Diego spoke again, his tone deep and dark, and settled on his decision.

Bang!

Bang!

I didn’t see her reach for the weapon tucked in my waistband. Didn’t realize what she was doing until the gunshot echoed through the cathedral.

Diego shouted, spinning as the bullet caught him in the shoulder. Blood bloomed across his white shirt as he hit the ground, his gun clattering across the stone floor.

For a split second, the cathedral was silent.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Gunfire erupted from every direction as Diego’s men opened fire, and the mafia soldiers who were scattered throughout the congregation returned in kind. The beautiful white cathedral became a war zone in seconds.

I tackled Alison to the ground, covering her body with mine as bullets shattered the stained glass windows above us. The wedding dress pooled around us both, white silk now stained with glass and debris.

“Stay down,” I shouted over the gunfire.

Through the chaos, I saw Vincenzo throw himself over Camila, shielding her body with his own. The crack of another gunshot pierced through my ear, and I watched my brother jerk as blood began seeping through his white tuxedo jacket.

“Vincenzo!” Camila’s scream was raw, desperate.

But he didn’t let go of her. Even bleeding, even wounded, he kept himself between her and the flying bullets.

The gunfight lasted less than five minutes, but it felt like hours. When the mayhem finally cleared, Diego’s men were surrounded, their weapons lowered in surrender. The Commission and the mafia had more men, better positioning, and home-field advantage.

The cathedral was destroyed. Bullet holes scarred the ancient walls, colored glass littered the floor like confetti, and the smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air.

“Vincenzo!” I scrambled to my feet, pulling Alison with me as we rushed to where my brother lay against the altar, Camila cradling his head in her lap.

Blood soaked through his shirt from what looked like a shoulder wound. Painful, sure, but not fatal. His face was pale, but his eyes were alert and focused entirely on the woman above him.

“I’m okay,” he gasped, though the pool of blood beneath him suggested otherwise. “Are you hurt? Did you get hit, my love?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, her tears falling freely now. “You stupid fool. You could have been killed.”

“It would have been worth it,” he managed to say, trying to smile. “I’ve been trying to prove I could protect you for years. I finally got my chance.”

“Mama?”

We all turned to see a little boy standing at the edge of the altar, having somehow made his way through the chaos.

Camila’s breath caught after she audibly gasped. “Baby, what are you doing here? You were supposed to stay behind the door.”

“The lady said to find you when the loud noises stopped,” he said, his voice small but steady. He looked around at all the adults, at the blood, at the destruction, not a single flinch.

His gaze settled on Vincenzo, studying his face with the intense curiosity of a child as he cautiously came closer.

“Mama,” he said quietly. “Is this my papa?”

The question hung in the air like a prayer while Camila’s eyes filled with fresh tears.

“Lorenzo…” Her voice broke.

“You said he gave me my stormy eyes,” the boy continued, stepping closer to Vincenzo. “His eyes are like the clouds when it rains. Is it him?”

Vincenzo’s face crumpled, and I saw tears spill down his cheeks as he stared at his son. The child he’d never gotten to hold, but still tried to protect.

“Yeah, little man,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m your papa.”

Lorenzo nodded solemnly, as if this confirmation answered some deep question he’d been carrying. Then, without hesitation, he climbed up onto the altar and carefully settled himself between Vincenzo and Camila.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, pointing to the blood.

“A little,” Vincenzo admitted. “But it doesn’t hurt so much now that you’re here.”

“Mama kisses my hurts to make them better. Maybe she can kiss yours, too.”

Camila laughed through her tears, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Vincenzo’s forehead. “Better?”

“Much better.”

The scene was surreal. A family reunion in the middle of a blood-soaked cathedral, surrounded by the wreckage of a wedding that was never meant to be.

But it was also beautiful. Broken and chaotic and completely fucked up, but beautiful.

I looked over at Alison, still radiant despite everything that had happened. She was watching the family at the altar with tears in her eyes, and when she turned to look at me, I saw something there I’d never dared to hope for.

She looked at me with love in her eyes, not hiding her feelings for anyone’s sake anymore.

I pulled her closer to me, my hands running over her body one more time, frantically checking for injuries. Her white dress was torn and stained with dirt and debris, but she was whole. She was safe.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, my voice rough with the remains of the adrenaline that still pumped through me.

“I’m fine,” she breathed, but her hands were shaking as they gripped my arms. “Don’t you ever do that again. Step in front of a gun like you’re bulletproof or something.”

“Hey,” I cupped her face, forcing her to look at me. “I’m here, and I’m fine. You saved me. My princess in shining armor.”

For the first time ever, without hiding, without restraint, without doubt, I kissed her like she was mine to keep.

Around us, the chaos was slowly settling like dust. Matt and Liam were checking on their wives.

While Jamie looked startled, Francesca seemed like she needed to kill the sicário that lay at her feet a second time.

Teresa had her arms wrapped around herself in a protective stance while Adrian was just as pale as Adrianne.