Page 106 of Devil's Azalea

Commotion outside the suite draws my attention, and I hear Katie’s voice rising. “I’m the bride’s friend. I demand to be allowed in!”

“No entry, ma’am.”

I start to move away from the stylist who’s trying to fit me into my gold reception dress, but Rafael waves me back as he stalks towards the door himself. He opens it just enough to speak.

“She’s fine.”

He steps back barely enough for Katie to squeeze through, then slams the door shut. Before I can blink, he has her pinned against the door, his hand wrapped around her throat.

“Rafael!” I snap, horrified, rushing towards them.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” he growls.

Katie can’t even speak. There’s no way for her to defend herself, being choked mercilessly as she is.

“Rafael! Stop!” I grab his arm, ready to tear into him, but then I see his face. His expression is frightening. Even when we were at the height of our enmity, he never looked at me like this—like he’d love to snap my neck and toss my lifeless body to the dogs.

He glances at me, and his expression immediately softens. With a flick of his mercurial gaze, he releases Katie, and she crumbles to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

I drop beside her, pulling her into my arms, guilt twisting in my gut. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur, brushing her hair back as she rubs her throat. “Tensions are high. He didn’t mean—” I shoot Rafael a glare full of fury. “What the hell was that? YouknowKatie!” She was hurt alongside me just days ago, for crying out loud.

“The security here is tighter than a military base. My brothers’ security coordinated with mine to make it impenetrable. There was no way for an intruder to slip in unless there was an insider.” His gaze drops meaningfully to Katie, and I gasp at his insinuation.

He thinks Katie betrayed me.

“How dare you? Just like Maximo, Romero, and Michael are brothers to you, Katie is a sister to me. She would never—never—do anything to hurt me. How dare you accuse her, Rafael?” Rage shakes through me because really, how fucking dare he? I get that tensions are running high and he needs someone to blame, but Katie? My Katie?

I blink back angry tears as I point a shaky finger at the door. “Get. Out.”

“Em, it’s fine. I’m not offended. He’s protecting you. He’s–”

“Shut the fuck up.” Rafael’s growl makes Katie flinch, and he takes a threatening step towards her again.

The absolute audacity of this man.

“Rafael!” I cry out, standing between them.

He shoots me a flinty look. “You really should be more careful who you trust and let close to you,” he says cryptically, then marches out of the suite, all self-righteous fury. “What the hell is wrong with him?” I mutter as the door slams behind him.

“He’s… protective. I’m glad, honestly.” She tries to smile, but she’s still struggling to catch her breath properly. “Are you okay? I tried to get to you in the garden, but security wouldn’t let me close, and I didn’t want to cause a scene there.”

“I’m fine.” I pat her hand gently. “Pissed that fucker offed himself before I could get answers, but fine.”

“Mrs. Moretti, please.” The stylist’s exasperated voice reminds me I’m only half-dressed, and I sigh, giving her my back so she can finish her work.

“Are you really still going through with the reception?” Katie asks as the stylist works. “You don’t have to. The wedding is over. You should go home where you’ll be safe from any more attempts.”

I catch her eyes in the mirror. “No, wearegoing through with it. I refuse to run scared for my life. That’s probably exactly what this enemy wants.” Now that I think about it, I don’t think the fucker sending these people to me actually wants me dead.

First at the mall parking lot, and now this. If they were able to get a man into the wedding ceremony, they could have hired a professional who wouldn’t have been caught until after the job was done.

The reason neither Rafael nor I have holes in us is because of the angle of the gun. It was aimed slightly upwards. That’s why we weren’t hit with shrapnel either.

No, this enemy doesn’t want me dead—not yet, at least—they want me scared, paranoid, looking over my shoulder, make me doubt everyone around me.

Well, fuck that. I refuse to give them what they want.

My head is held high as I walk into the reception side by side with Rafael, our fingers linked.