Chapter 33

Aurora POV

I push the plate away before the server even finishes setting it down in front of me.

It doesn’t matter what they’re serving—filet mignon, lobster tail, truffle risotto—none of it can cut through the nausea twisting my stomach into knots while Leonardo’s hand sneaks over to rest on my thigh once again.

How could it?

In just a few short hours, I’m going to be dragged upstairs and stripped out of this ridiculous dress and forced to spread my legs for a man old enough to be my father with no one coming to rescue me unlike last time.

I clench my fists on the table in front of me , nails digging into the soft flesh of my palms. Maybe if I hurt myself enough now, the pain won’t feel so real later. Or I could somehow find a way to get hurt in order to be rushed to the hospital.

It will only delay the inevitable but at least I’ll get the chance to breathe and maybe figure something else out. Would Gianna be able to steal enough money from her father to smuggle me out of the country?

Across the sea of tables, laughter and clinking glasses echo like a mockery.

I haven’t seen Dominic at all since the ceremony. When dinner had started to be served, I thought for sure I’d see him sneaking his way out from one of the shadowed corners in order to settle himself at a nearby table to continue with his own silent mocking of me.

But no, it seems he’s completely disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Maybe he’d simply left altogether. What’s the point in sticking around when his plan for revenge has been foiled?

My throat tightens.

I was stupid to believe he was different. That seeing those small glimpses of a different man had actually been real when in reality, he’d played me like a fiddle. He’s nothing but a cold, ruthless and self-serving monster.

I just didn’t want to admit it to myself at the time. But here I am, regretting letting him touch me and trick me into forgetting all of that because of the pleasure he brought me.

“Hey,” Gianna says from behind me, tapping my shoulder. She gives me a tight smile. “Come dance with me?”

I blink up at her, forcing a smile so brittle it hurts my cheeks. Pushing away from the table, I pretend not to notice Leonardo reaching for me in order to drag me back down into my chair and quickly step around the step as Gianna’s arm loops around mine.

She takes me over to the dance floor, completely empty now that everyone is sitting at their tables to eat. She swings me around a few times while a beautiful classical version of a pop song is played.

“You looked like you were about to faint,” she tells me, spinning around and then facing me again. “Figured I’d get you out of there for a bit.”

I breathe out a small sigh of relief. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Did you talk to Dominic?”

Instantly, my eyes begin to water.

“Fuck,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry. I wish I could fix this.”

I wish she could too, but no one can. I’m trapped in the mess that has been carefully laid for me. Every second that ticks closer to the moment I lose the last shred of control I have left is all consuming. The walls are closing in with no way to stop them from crushing me alive.

I barely notice Leonardo approaching until Gianna’s fingers slip from my shoulder.

“Come, wife.” Leonardo says, leering as he extends a hand toward me. “Let’s have our first dance.”

Gianna looks torn, like she might physically block him from taking me away from her but I shake my head. There’s no point in either of us making a scene. It’s not like things will change.

If anything, it may end up hurting her more in the long run than me.

As soon as Gianna steps away from me, Leonardo drapes his hand around my waist, far too low to be appropriate, and presses me against him. My stomach recoils when I feel his hard length rub against me while we sway together

“You’re all mine now,” he murmurs into my ear, breath sour from the champagne.

I nod stiffly, the world blurring at the edges.

“Why don’t we call it an early evening and head back to the hotel?” He says.

Please let this night end quickly…

I close my eyes, pretending I'm somewhere else—with someone else—while his hands roam my body. Not the bride bought and sold like livestock or a prisoner in a white dress.

Just Aurora. Free from these chains that shackle me.

The bang is so loud it feels like the world shatters.

My eyes snap open in an instant.

For a second, everything freezes. Then it’s all complete chaos.

Screaming. Gunfire. People diving beneath tables and overturning chairs, running in every direction as more bullets zip by and nail a few other innocent bystanders. Blood spatters everywhere, just like I imagined it would during the ceremony.

Leonardo shoves me hard to the ground as a second, louder crack, rips through the air closer to us.

Right as he’s reaching for a gun tucked into the back of his waistband, his entire body jerks backward, blood exploding from his chest in a gruesome spray that showers over me. He collapses onto the floor in front of me, his gun falling onto the ground and skidding a few feet from us while his mouth opens and closes like a dying fish.

Blood pools beneath him, dark and slick, staining the hem of my wedding gown.

Leonardo gasps once, choking on his own blood, and then goes still.

It takes me a second—one horrific, suspended moment—to realize what’s just happened.

He’s dead.

Very, very dead.

I stagger backwards on my hands, slipping in the blood that pours from his wounds as I try to get a better grip of the dance floor under me. The hem of my gown is coated, speckles of red are flecked all over the front bodice in a macabre design.

My vision tunnels.

Someone grabs my arm, yanking me backward while trying to get me up onto my feet again. I cry out, thinking it’s one of the attackers, but when I twist around, I see Gianna’s face—pale and terrified.

“Get up!” she screams over the chaos. “Aurora, get up!”

I stagger to my feet, my whole body shaking. I see flashes of men in black suits—guns being drawn right before they let loose—firing across the room at each other.

More bodies hit the floor.

I realize, dimly, that this wasn’t a clean assassination, this wasn’t the quiet, surgical strike Dominic had planned for.

This is a massacre.