Page 72 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

Cat's kiss still lingers on my lips, sweet and soft, before she slips away with that mischievous smile I'd walk through fire for. I watch her go, the train of her gown whispering across the grass as she disappears toward the house.

My wife .

The word fills my chest like a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. I don't care that she joked about the bathroom. I don't care that I'll miss her for the next five minutes. I'd wait a lifetime for her and still think I got the better end of the deal.

Stephano didn't come either, no big surprise. It's not a personal slight. He'd just rather stay behind his computer and search for his missing brother. Or right now, traces of Ledyanoy Prizrak.

Neither Roberto nor Edoardo showed up, either, which is just fine with me. If it had been up to me, they wouldn't have even been invited.

I turn toward my best man. There's a flicker in his eyes I don't like. "What is it?"

He lowers his voice, speaking just loud enough for me to hear over the clink of glasses and the rising swell of music. "Stephano flagged something on one of the surveillance tapes."

Instant tension knots my spine. "What kind of something?"

"He wouldn't say. He wants to wait until we're all together and let us see for ourselves. He left it up to you whether we meet today…" Toni shrugs, "…or wait till tomorrow."

Today. Or tomorrow.

My wedding. My celebration. My wife.

I glance toward the house, and there she is. Just stepping through the French doors, her head turned slightly as if she were searching for someone.

She's radiant. My wife . God, I could drown in the sight of her. I feel the smile creep across my face before I can stop it.

Toni sees it too. "You want to wait," he says, not unkindly.

"No," I answer, though I haven't looked away from her yet. "Let's all meet in my office in an hour."

I don't know what this is about, but I know better than to ignore it.

In this business, you don't put anything off, not even on your wedding day.

With any luck, this won't take long, and I can be back before Cat even misses me, maybe even before they call the first dance.

Toni pulls out a chair next to me. He seems to be in a talkative mood, very different from the Toni I know.

Hopefully, I'll get to meet this mystery obsession/woman/hostage soon.

I've never seen him like this. He didn't bring her here tonight because Carlos can't know she's alive.

The sooner we get rid of that bastard, the better.

Something flares in the corner of my eye, movement from the upper terrace. A flash of yellow. I frown. The bridesmaid dresses are yellow.

Another flash, fast. A streak of fabric, flying.

"Izzy?" I mutter.

I'm out of my seat before I consciously make the decision to move, and Toni rises beside me without a word. We both know that kind of velocity only means one thing: trouble.

Guards around the perimeter are tense as Izzy leaps from the low stone railing of the terrace into the grass below like a fury unleashed. No, not onto the grass, onto someone .

"Guards!" she bellows midair, pointing as she hurtles toward a figure trying to blend into the crowd. She tackles him. Straight up tackles the bastard to the ground in a blur of yellow tulle and rage. I freeze for a heartbeat. No. No fucking way .

"Ledyanoy Prizrak," I hiss, heart hammering as I sprint forward.

The bastard is here. Here . On my property. At my wedding. Right under my goddamn nose. Izzy straddles him, dodging a wild punch he throws from below, and plants her feet like she was born in a fight ring.

"You motherfucker!" she snarls, her braid whips over her shoulder. She lands a right hook clean to his jaw. His head snaps sideways with a crunch I feel in my own molars.

The crowd screams. Chairs scatter. My men surge forward, but I'm already there, vaulting over a table, dodging champagne glasses and startled guests. Toni's right behind me, his voice is tight like steel. "No one fires unless I say so!"

I get close enough to see the ice in Alaric's eyes, and the thin smile on his lips despite the blood now smeared across his face.

"Get your hands off my sister," I growl, crouching low.

Izzy's eyes flick up, wild and bright. "I have it under control," she pants defiantly.

And she does.

But I don't care. Because this fucker being here means one thing: whatever Stephano saw on those tapes?

It's already too late.

"Take him to the warehouse," I order the guards.

While they take Ledyanoy Prizrak out of there, I hear him chuckling, "Over a fucking girl…"

"I know it's your wedding…" Toni trails off.

I know that tone of voice. I don't like what he's suggesting, but…

fuck, things just got real. And I need to deal with this motherfucker now.

I watch my men place Ledyanoy Prizrak into a white delivery van.

My father is soothing the guests, and Mattheo is instructing the band to start playing again.

I turn to the terrace doors, wondering just how in the world I'm going to explain to Cat…

A deafening boom sounds out, like thunder cracking the sky in half.

I'm thrown against Toni, who curses loudly, and we both go down in a heap to the ground.

For one breathless moment, everything slows, time itself suspends in disbelief, then chaos explodes around me.

Shouts. Screams. The brittle shatter of crystal. A cloud of smoke and debris billows from the dining hall like a monster's breath. Red and white petals from the floral arch flutter through the air like bloodied snow.

Fuck, that was a bomb.

Inside my house.

Cat is inside.

My heart stops. She was inside. My fucking wife was inside.

Without any regard for Toni, whose limbs are entangled with mine, I scramble up off the ground. Still half hunched over, I begin to run toward the blown-out glass doors. Shards crunch underneath my feet.

I'm running, tearing through the stunned, bleeding crowd. I don't know who's screaming. I don't care. All I hear is the pounding of my pulse and the blood in my ears, only one thought driving me forward: find her.

People are on the ground. Some cut from the flying glass. Others, just crawling, dazed and bleeding, hands covering ears, mouths gasping open in shock. The blast tore through the glass doors like they were tissue. Shards glint like stars across the stone floor. A few bodies are slumped, too still.

Please, God, not her.

"CAT!" I shout, my voice breaking with rage and panic.

I shove a man out of the way—I don't even know who he is—and push past one of the guards who's coughing into his sleeve. Toni's at my side, shouting something I can't hear. I ignore him. My eyes are locked on the yawning blackness inside the dining hall.

Smoke coils out like it's alive, thick and choking. Flames flicker near the cake table. A chandelier dangles at an angle, crystals shattered, broken wires hissing.

"CAT!" My voice cracks this time.

Nothing.

I step over a toppled chair, nearly trip on someone's shattered champagne glass. My shoes crunch over glass and blood and wedding lace. I don't feel any of it. I don't care. My hands push through the smoke like I can part it with will alone.

Please be alive. Please be breathing.

Another scream—female. Close—but not hers. Where the fuck is she?

If she's hurt—if she's gone—I swear to God, I will burn this entire world to the ground. I will drag Ledyanoy Prizrak out of hell himself and bury him in pieces across five continents.

"Cat," I whisper hoarsely now, throat raw.

Movement to my left catches my eye, a glint of satin—a shape hunched near the far wall, obscured by smoke.

My heart stops again. And then it roars back to life as I sprint toward it.

I reach her in seconds that feel like centuries. She's crumpled on the floor in a mess of smoke and fabric, white satin streaked with red. My knees hit the marble hard. "Cat," I breathe, my voice torn, ragged.

Her head lolls slightly, lashes fluttering. "Enrico…" Her voice is faint, distant, like it's traveling from another world.

I drag her up into my arms, careful but desperate. That's when I see it, a shard of glass lodged beneath her left breast, angling just under the curve of her ribs.

"Fuck." The word rips from my throat like a growl. Not deep. It's not deep. I can tell. But the blood—her blood—against her white gown, my wife's blood, it's enough to drive me goddamn insane.

"Don't move," I whisper, gripping her hand. "You're going to be okay. You hear me? You're okay, Cat. Stay with me."

She tries to nod, wincing. "Hurts…"

"I know, baby." My lips brush her temple. I want to scream. To kill. But I can't do either, not while she's bleeding in my arms. "You're going to be fine. Help's coming. I've got you. Nothing's going to take you from me, you hear?"

My hands are shaking. I never shake. Not even in war. But this? Seeing her like this? I can barely breathe.

"Silvano!" I shout into the smoke. "Get Doc Brown. Now!"

A voice shouts back, muffled and far away.

"I don't care if he's in the middle of an amputation; Cat needs him. Drag him here if you have to." I order, before I lower my forehead to hers, cradling her face with the hand that isn't trying to slow the bleeding. "You're my wife now, remember? And I don't lose what's mine."

Tears mix with ash on her cheeks. She tries to smile, weak and pained.

The sight of her trying to comfort me when she's the one bleeding nearly undoes me.

"Don't you dare close your eyes," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I will follow you to the fucking underworld and drag you back if you do."

Footsteps thunder behind me.

Then I hear it, that gravel-thick voice, already pissed off and raspy from smoke. "Move! Get the hell out of my way. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, can't leave you people alone for five goddamn minutes?—"

I don't even look up. "Doc."

"Yeah, yeah," he growls, dropping to one knee beside me, the hem of his pants soaked in blood and wedding champagne. "Let me see."

He peels back the torn fabric near her ribs, and I swear if he winces, I'll kill something.

But he doesn't. He's calm. Focused. Cranky as fuck.

"She's lucky," he mutters, and I nearly snap at him.

Lucky?

He pulls out gauze from the trauma kit that one of the guards must've shoved into his hands. "Another inch to the left and we'd be talking about a collapsed lung. As it is, she'll hurt like hell, but she'll breathe."

My breath leaves me all at once, and I press my forehead to hers again. "You hear that, Piccolina? You're going to be fine. You're strong."

Doc doesn't look up. "Don't talk to her—talk to me. If you distract her, her muscles tense, and I can't do my job ."

I flinch as she winces.

"Careful!" I bark.

"I am careful," he snaps back, not even pausing. "You want speed, or you want precision?"

I grit my teeth but shut my mouth. Barely. He keeps working, muttering to himself as he applies pressure. "Next time you want her safe, Romeo, maybe try not letting her near flying shrapnel."

"I said stitch it, not give me a lecture," I snap, barely restraining myself from grabbing the suture kit myself.

He huffs but keeps working. "Well, then maybe shut up and let me do the part where I keep your wife from bleeding all over your Italian marble."

"She's not going to bleed anywhere," I growl, eyes locked on every inch of Cat's pale face. "You're going to fix her."

"No pressure," he deadpans. "Give me your bow tie."

"What?"

"Your goddamn bow tie, Sartori. I've got gloves slick with blood and vodka, I need traction."

I tear the bow tie from my collar and slap it into his hand.

He folds it with a speed born from too many years doing this shit under fire and tucks it just beneath the glass shard to steady the skin.

"I'm not pulling this out until we have her in the car.

If it shifts, we could be leaking from a major artery. "

"She's not leaking anything," I grind out. "Just get her safe."

He meets my eyes then, steady, even. "I will."

And for the first time since I heard the fucking boom, I breathe.

Behind me, Toni's barking orders, Silvano's yelling into a radio, people are crying, groaning, and limping.

But all I can focus on are two things: the girl in my arms, the woman I just promised forever to, bleeding into my chest as the world burns down around us—and the ancient, irritable bastard keeping her alive.