The Wife Buried Before the Wedding

Luca moved faster than Adriana could blink.

He didn't raise his gun to return fire. Instead, he threw his entire body in front of Adriana and Sofia.

Thwip. Thwip.

Two muffled shots struck Luca in the shoulder and side. He grunted, stumbling backward, but as he fell, he raised his Glock and fired one deafening, unsuppressed shot.

Domenico collapsed backward into the elevator, a bullet squarely between his eyes.

“Luca!” Adriana screamed.

She dropped to her knees, pressing her silk wedding gown against his bleeding shoulder. The pristine white fabric instantly bloomed crimson.

“Get his keys,” Luca wheezed, coughing. “Domenico… has the keys to the tunnels.”

Adriana left her dying husband’s side. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she searched the dead enforcer’s pockets. She found a heavy brass keyring. But as she pulled it free, a folded piece of paper fell from Domenico’s jacket.

She opened it.

It was a copy of her own birth certificate.

But written across the top, in Vittorio’s unmistakable, heavy handwriting, were the words: The collateral. If the nurse talks, the daughter dies.

Adriana’s world tilted. The nurse.

Her mother had been an ER nurse. Twelve years ago, Elena had “disappeared” three days after her wedding.

“My mother,” Adriana whispered, staring at the paper. “She didn’t just know Elena. She treated her. She hid her.”

“She saved her,” a voice echoed from the kitchen doorway.

Adriana spun around, raising Luca’s dropped gun.

Standing in the shadows was Luca’s younger brother, Marco. He wasn’t holding a weapon. Instead, his hands were raised in surrender.

“Marco, help him!” Adriana cried, lowering the gun.

Marco rushed forward, applying pressure to Luca’s wounds. “Domenico was acting on my father’s orders,” Marco said, his voice tight. “Vittorio found out Elena was still alive yesterday. He knew she was coming tonight to stop the wedding.”

“Why would she stop my wedding?” Adriana demanded.

Marco looked up at her, his eyes full of pity. “Because, Adriana. My father didn't pick you for Luca because you were a sweet, innocent civilian.”

Marco reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy gold pocket watch. He clicked it open. Inside was a picture of Vittorio, but the glass was shattered.

“Vittorio arranged this marriage,” Marco said quietly. “He kept you close because your mother stole his ultimate prize twelve years ago. Elena didn’t run away. She was pregnant. Vittorio ordered her killed because she was going to the FBI. Your mother saved her, faked her death, and hid her.”

Marco snapped the watch shut.

“You aren’t a wife, Adriana. You’re a hostage. And now that Elena has shown her face… Vittorio has no more use for you.”

Sofia tugged on Adriana’s dress.

“They took Mommy to the boathouse,” the little girl cried. “The man with the scar said they were going to put her back in the ground.”

Adriana looked at the blood on her hands. She looked at Luca, who was drifting in and out of consciousness.

She gripped the gun tighter.

“Marco, get Luca to a hospital,” Adriana commanded.

“Where are you going?” Marco asked.

Adriana turned toward the service doors. “I’m going to get my mother’s friend back.”