The Bride They Should Never Have Betrayed

The shotgun blast was deafening, a roar of fire and thunder in the heavy rain.

Vivienne squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the impact. Waiting for the burn of the buckshot.

But the pain never came.

Instead, two of Antonio’s heavily armed guards standing directly to Vivienne’s left were violently thrown backward, their chests shredded by the blast.

Salvatore hadn’t aimed at her. He had aimed just past her shoulder.

Vivienne’s eyes snapped open. Salvatore’s supposed betrayal was a ruse—a desperate play to get Antonio to lower his guard and group his men together.

“Now, Vivienne!” Salvatore roared, racking the shotgun for another round.

Chaos erupted. Antonio’s men scrambled, firing wildly in the blinding rain. Salvatore threw himself behind a stack of wooden pallets, drawing their fire.

Vivienne didn’t hesitate. She didn’t run for cover. She sprinted straight at Antonio.

Antonio barely had time to draw his pistol before Vivienne crashed into him, driving her shoulder into his chest. They tumbled backward onto the wet asphalt, the gun skittering across the ground.

Antonio was bigger, heavier, and fueled by rage. He threw a brutal punch that caught Vivienne on the cheekbone, snapping her head back. She tasted blood instantly.

“You ruined everything!” Antonio snarled, scrambling to top mount, pinning her down. He pulled a serrated hunting knife from his belt, driving it downward.

Vivienne caught his wrist with both hands, the blade stopping barely an inch from her eye. Her muscles screamed in protest as Antonio bore his entire weight down on the knife.

“I am the Don!” Antonio screamed, spit flying from his lips. “I own this city!”

“You don’t own anything,” Vivienne ground out through her teeth.

She let go of his wrist with her left hand, taking the full brunt of his strength on her right arm. The knife sliced a shallow cut across her collarbone, but the split-second sacrifice gave her the opening she needed.

She drove her left palm upward, striking Antonio fiercely under the chin.

His head snapped back. Vivienne bucked her hips, throwing him off her.

She scrambled to her feet, wiping the rain and blood from her eyes. Antonio was already up, charging her with the knife.

Vivienne side-stepped his thrust, grabbing his arm and using his own momentum to throw him face-first into the metal barrel holding the laptop.

The screen flickered. The telemetry showing Maya’s heartbeat beeped frantically.

Antonio slumped against the barrel, laughing through bloody teeth. He slammed his bloody hand onto the laptop’s keyboard, hitting the ENTER key.

The screen flashed red.

OXYGEN FLOW: TERMINATED.

“Oops,” Antonio mocked, coughing up blood.

Vivienne lunged for the laptop, staring at the screen in horror. Maya’s heart rate monitor began to spike, then rapidly drop. Warning: Patient Hypoxia.

“You have three minutes before brain damage sets in, and five before she’s dead,” Antonio sneered, slowly picking up his knife. “The only way to reverse the command is to enter my biometric passcode. But I’m leaving now.”

He turned toward the idling yacht.

“I’ll kill you,” Vivienne whispered, drawing her weapon and pointing it at his back.

Antonio paused, looking over his shoulder. He smiled—the same arrogant, perfect smile he had worn at the altar.

“You can shoot me,” Antonio said smoothly. “Or you can save her. But you can’t do both. You only have a few minutes, bride. Choose.”

He turned and started walking toward the ramp of the boat.

Vivienne stood frozen in the rain. Her gun was locked on Antonio’s head. She could end him right now. She could avenge her mother, her brother, and every life he had ruined.

The laptop beeped louder, a frantic, dying rhythm.

Vivienne looked at the red flashing screen. Then she looked at the heavy black cables running from the laptop, snaking across the wet pavement, and disappearing into a massive, heavily reinforced shipping container a few feet away.

He’s smuggling the Cartel weapons out, not in. Marcus’s words echoed in her mind.

Why would Antonio need a massive shipping container connected to his laptop if he was just turning off hospital oxygen?

Vivienne realized it with a jolt.

The laptop wasn't just a remote control for the hospital. It was a decoy terminal. The actual server—the one routing the encrypted commands to his corrupt cops and the Cartel network—was inside the container.

She lowered her gun from Antonio.

She pointed it at the heavy padlock on the shipping container.

She fired twice, shattering the lock. She kicked the doors open.

Inside wasn't a stash of weapons. It was a massive, humming server rack, blinking with hundreds of lights, routing millions of dollars and encrypted data. The nerve center of Antonio’s entire shadow empire.

Antonio stopped on the boat ramp, looking back. His smug smile vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated panic.

“No!” he screamed. “Don’t!”

Vivienne raised her rifle.