Page 89 of The Crimson Lily

Everything happens so fast, yet the world moves in slow motion before my eyes.

The chapel’s doors are rammed open by a swarm of men dressed in black armored vests and camo suits.

“Carabinieri!” they shout in unison, aiming weapons at everyone inside.

Then come the shots, and bullets rain down. My instincts take over. I follow Margaret and tear the paper out of her hands, then I push the woman with the glass box so she falls to the floor. I grip the handle of the box, ditch my pumps to the side, and run to the altar to take cover.

“Carabinieri! Carabinieri!”

More armed men.

I see an opening. Ducking and almost cowering, I head for the door back into the cloister.

I run and run until I reach the nearest window. I do my best to open it fast, remembering my hand is broken, but it clicks anyway, and I lift the heavy pane and slip through it like a cat on speed.

I land on my belly on cold gravel. To my left, by the chapel’s entrance, are a dozen Carabinieri and police cars ready to take this whole place down.

I hear William’s voice behind me. “Liliana!” His anger pierces through the winter air. “You’re not going anywhere!” he roars and cocks a gun.

I halt, raise my hands in surrender, and slowly turn to face my big cousin. Gunshots still thunder inside the chapel.

“How?” he spits.

I grin. The de Loit sneer. William recognizes it, and it infuriates him.

“I’m going to make you suffer,” he blurts, pacing toward me, clutching my neck with one hand.

He overtakes me and pushes me down with his weight. I fall to my knees. His eyes scream desperation.

“You…‌lose…” I stammer.

He releases his grip and slaps me hard in the face with his gun. My mouth starts to bleed. I eject a chunk of spit and blood. He’s about to give me a hook punch when I block his arm with the edge of mine and go for his jaw.

The gun in his hand shoots the ground.

I stagger, stunned by the ringing in my ear. I catch on to William, ready to give another punch, when my forehead meets the barrel of his gun.

Click.He cocks it.

At the same time, more gunshots pop like Chinese crackers. More Carabinieri screamers storm the chapel.

“I should have killed you eight months ago,” he says, grinding his teeth.

I maintain his gaze. I know William’s going to shoot. But I don’t see my life flash before my eyes like people say. My past doesn’t loop on this endless carousel displaying the meaningless pictures of my life. I went through that only a few hours earlier. Instead, I just see Maksim. My favorite Belarusian man. Mr. Business Class. I see the usual silver of his gaze delving into mine right before a kiss. I feel his presence. I feel his love for me. I’m sure of it now. Love. There’s no place left for doubt.

I close my eyes, waiting for the end, making peace with it.

Click.

“Drop the gun,” Maksim’s voice sounds from behind William.

I open my eyes and see Maksim, towering above William with a demon’s glare.

After a moment of hesitation, William looks over his shoulder and faces Maksim Kovalyov, my Bratva wolf. Then, after a moment of decision, William turns back to me, his features sharp and unstoppable.

I have a fraction of a second to dash to the side.

Bang.William pulls the trigger.