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Chapter thirty-four

St. Roman’s Church, London

February 2024

Hunter

Everyone who is anyone in London society is here to witness the wedding of Tilly Devane to the notorious Domenico Lombardi of Italy. Each invite had a purpose, bringing together friends, family, business associates, and enemies. No one is here just because they want to be.

The pews are packed—there’s not a seat to be had. Conversations in various dialects take place around us as we sit and wait for the bride. What everyone else in here doesn’t realize is the bride isn’t going to make it to the alter.

Isabella clasps my hand as we sit together. She’s in the most stunning shade of azure blue, dark hair pinned high. In these past six weeks she has become close to Tilly; the two women have become unexpected friends amidst the chaos of our lives. Her grip tightens on my fingers, and I glance down trying to give her a reassuring smile.

“Are you sure about this?” she whispers.

“I am,” I say simply, though I’m not one hundred percent sure what she’s asking as I never explained the full plan. She knew I had reservations, and she never hid her own opinion on the subject. Tilly is aware of the plot in place to free her from this marriage, but Bella and myself never discussed it openly. It was almost a silent understanding that I would fix this.

More guests pile in, and a look over my shoulder sees swatches of men in morning suits and women in extravagant gowns attempting to find a seat. The church itself is beautiful, opulent. The walls are covered in intricate paintings, the colors still sharp and bright despite their age. Excited voices echo off the stone walls as anticipation builds to see the bride. They don’t know they won’t.

As the organ begins to play and the crowd begins to settle, I lean in and place my lips at Bella’s ear. “Whatever happens, stay down until I tell you it’s safe to stand up again.” She glances at me warily, but there is no surprise on her face. “Your wish is my command. My life is to serve you, and I will do everything in my power to give you what you want.”

Her lips crack into an amused smile, then she pecks my cheek. “I’m delighted to hear that you’ve recognized your place.”

I laugh a little, shaking my head in disbelief at the cheek I take from this woman. But I would take whatever comes out her smart mouth from now until the end of time if it meant she was by my side.

“My place, my wife,” I murmur, sliding my hand up her thigh and resting it across her pussy, “is on my knees and at your mercy.” Sexual tension hits us hard, both of us catching our breath. A few guests around us glance in our direction, but I don’t fucking care. “What I would give to be buried inside you right now, pretty girl.”

Isabella chuckles, but the most stunning blush highlights the top of her breasts exposed above the deep neckline of her dress. My hand travels upward, finishing over her soft stomach. I squeeze gently, then drop a kiss on to her shoulder.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I tell her.

“Hunter, you’ll get called out for blasphemy. We are in church,” she scolds playfully.

“And I’m worshiping my personal goddess.”

She goes to open her mouth to reply as the wedding march begins. The congregation stands to attention, all eyes fixed on the door. All except the husband-to-be, who is standing with his men, chatting as if at a football match. I look from him to the empty doorway, and I know this was the right decision. Not only for my niece, but for me, for my wife, and for the man I am.

The song comes to an end, then repeats. Guests begin to mutter nervously between themselves. Lombardi looks to me, and I nod encouragingly. His associate stalks over to me as Isabella and myself stand in the front row.

“Where is she?” he hisses. “Mr. Lombardi doesn’t appreciate being kept waiting.”

“It is tradition for a bride to make her future husband wait,” I reply smoothly. “Isn’t that right, Bella?”

“Yes,” she says, plastering on a wide smile, but there’s no hiding the uncertainty behind her eyes. She shifts uneasily as the man returns to his position.

When I look back to the doorway, Damon appears for a brief moment then is gone again. It was him who convinced me this was how it should be done. He made the arrangements; I merely gave it my blessing. Not that anyone of the injured parties can know that this was the only way we could ensure Tilly be free without causing an all-out war. We had to bargain with the enemy.

Damon had come to me after New Year, after I had been so close to killing Greyson. He leveled with me and told me what I hadn’t wanted to hear—the truth about the man I thought betrayed me. Damon had found Tilly and Greyson together in Edinburgh; he realized what happened between them before I even considered the possibility. He also pointed out it was him who had saved her at the ball, and it was Greyson who put Tilly first.

Not me. Not her future husband. The man I instructed to bring her home when she ran away.

I’d been sitting in my office nursing a glass of whiskey when Damon had arrived. The look on his face told me he was there to discuss something important, and it was a conversation I wasn’t going to enjoy.

“You’ve just had your wife return to your side,” he said. “You pined after her for twenty years. You know what love is, Hunter, so see it from their point of view.”

I’d scoffed. “Calling a shotgun romance between two people thrown together love is ridiculous.” But even as the words left my lips, I knew I was lying. I’d seen it with my own eyes in that hotel as I tortured him, drawing my knife over his skin. He loved Tilly and would do anything to protect her, just as I would Bella, over and over again, until there was none of me left to defend her.

The crowd becomes more restless as the bride doesn’t appear. I know something is meant to occur, but I don’t know what. Damon was insistent the less I knew the better, and all I needed to know was it would happen.

“You can’t have an active role in this,” Damon had said. “I will contact Rodion.”

That had been the plan, the big twist to attempt to placate one disgruntled family while outwitting another. We knew that the Anastasovs of Russia weren’t happy with my dealings with the Lombardis. We knew the ships going missing was all some big hoax in order to create unrest in our world, and now we were going to ask for their help. It was a risk, but we hoped the reward outweighed the hatred.

Before I can think any more of what could happen, a man comes running from behind the groom and his men.

“Gas leak!” he hollers. He is dressed in a boiler suit, as if ready to work, his accent almost Eastern European or even Russian. “Get out now, it’s going to blow!”

Guests scatter like marbles. Women in towering heels and extravagant hats banging into one another, stepping on the toes of their aged, shouting husbands. The earlier murmurs turn to screams as panic sets in.

“You have ten seconds,” the unknown man bellows. I sit still, Bella beside me clutching my hand.

“Is this real?” she whispers.

“Bella, just stand and leave calmly. It will be fine.”

“Hunter…”

“Trust me, I’ve got ya now.” I stand up and take her hand firmly, leading her behind the gaggle of guests.

“But Tilly,” she continues.

“She’s safe.”

We keep walking, my eyes fixed straight ahead of me until we step out into the cold winter sun. As we reach where the bride’s car should have been, Damon stands idle beside the empty parking space, a satisfied smile on his lips.

“Where is my bride?” a furious voice growls in my ear. I take a deep breath then turn to face the man I need to fool. Domenico Lombardi. “A gas leak—could you not have come up with something more original, Devane?”

“The car drove on,” Damon says calmly. He steps up to my side and we both look the old man in the eye. “I think she may have changed her mind.”

“Changed her mind!” Lombardi screams, losing control. “It wasn’t that little tart’s choice. We had a deal.” His focus comes to me, nothing but evil deep within.

“We did, Domenico, and my men will get right on bringing her home. I’m as upset as you are.”

The three of us stand like lions poised to fight, waiting to see who will be first to draw their weapon. I tap the knife slid into my waistband. My trusty friend is always there, just in case. Isabella hovers behind me, and Lombardi glances over my shoulder toward her.

“If you don’t supply your niece as agreed, you could give me your own whore to play with. You owe me a womb.”

I don’t think, I just swing. I’m furious that the old bastard chose to turn his interest toward Isabella and loathing myself for ever thinking these alliances were worth the deal. My fist connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack. Lombardi stumbles, catching his heel on a stone step and tumbling backward down to the curb.

Lombardi lands flat on his back in the center of the pavement, the back of his skull cracking off the pavement with a satisfying thud. Blood immediately begins to soak his gray wisps of hair. He tries to scramble to his feet but slips like a newborn deer on the cold stone. Finally, once on his hands and knees, his guards move to his aid.

“Leave him,” I roar. They pause then resume their movement toward him. “I said fucking leave him.” The soles of my shoes whack off the ground beneath me as I make my way down the steps. Isabella stands at the top looking down, but I don’t need to turn around to know she’s there.

The ancient bridegroom is still on all fours, attempting to catch his breath. From this angle, he looks nothing but old and worn, the evil predator ready to take whatever he wants long gone. When he hears me beside him, he glances up, hatred burning in his eyes.

“You’ll pay for this, Devane,” he says, his tone menacing. “You and that bitch of yours better watch your backs.”

I look down on the pathetic cretin, then around the circle of men who now surround us. Some his, some mine. But there’s no mistaking which man is on his knees, and who the men are listening to.

“Next time you so much as think about speaking of my wife, Domenico, it will be from six feet under.” I catch the eyes of one of his guards, nodding that he can take the bastard away. His men scurry to his side, picking him up off the floor and throwing his arms around their necks. Damon joins me at the curb as we watch them pile him into a dark pickup.

“You just started a war,” Damon says, monotone. “She’s gone. Rodion let her go with Greyson.”

I dare a glance at Isabella, who hasn’t moved; she stands perfectly still watching us. She will have questions later. The tips of my fingers skim over my blade, still snug at my waist. Waiting for action.

“No, I just gave him a reason to fire the first shot.” I look my friend directly in the eye. “But if your instincts are correct and making a deal with Rodion was right, then we have new allies.”

“Allies maybe be a stretch,” he mutters, and I chuckle.

“We bought Tilly her freedom. Now, we wait for the invoice.”

I return to Isabella’s side, wrapping her in my arms and kissing her gently. She tenses, still not comfortable with public affection after all these years, but she kisses me back just as lovingly. As we part, her eyes move over my shoulder and focus on something behind me. Upon turning to face whatever it is, my eyes lock with Rodion standing on the opposite side of the road.

“Who’s that?” Isabella whispers as he lifts a hand in greeting. He’s tall and blonde, around thirty years old, dressed head to toe in black.

“Rodion, our new ally.”

Isabella looks at me warily, then her eyes focus back on the man now walking toward us across the road carrying a single white rose. As he approaches, I step forward slightly putting my body between him and my wife. He offers the stem to Bella, and I nod as she looks at me for direction.

“Hunter,” he says, his Russian accent strong. “Today has proven our relationship can be repaired. Power is divided, and my cousin is free to be with the man she loves.” He bows a fraction in Isabella’s direction. “Have a good day, Mr. and Mrs. Devane. I do hope to work with you again soon.

Rodion turns and walks away, climbing onto an awaiting motorbike. He smiles wide then pulls the helmet over his head before speeding off into the city.

“What do you think he meant about his cousin being happy? I thought he wanted to marry her.”

I take a moment to consider the potential reasons when I don’t know the firm answer. “Tilly and Rodion were close as children. He looked out for her,” I muse. “Perhaps seeing her happy was more important than what he wanted.” My eyes focus on hers, and everyone else disappears around us. She needs to hear this. “I know that feeling, Bella. When the woman you love is all that matters. When you would lose yourself to make her happy.”

She smiles softly, and my heart beats a little harder. The tension of the day passes, allowing for more relaxed times to come.

“Luckily, you don’t have to lose yourself. I love the unhinged, knife-wielding madman you are.”