The Wedding Reception Ambush
1375 Words
The underground tunnel smelled like rust and rain.
Dante pulled Adriana through the darkness, his hand locked around her wrist. He moved like he knew every turn. Like he’d built these tunnels himself.
“Keep up,” he ordered. He didn’t look back to check if she was following. He knew she would.
Adriana stumbled on broken concrete. Her sweatpants were soaked, her hair plastered to her face. The gun from the safe house was heavy in her hand.
“Where are we going?” she panted.
“The reception,” Dante said. “If Vittorio wants to crash it, he’ll have to get through me first.”
Adriana stopped walking. Dante turned, still holding her wrist. His eyes were black in the dim light.
“You’re not taking me to more gunfire,” she said. “I just killed a man, Dante. I don’t want to kill more.”
Dante stepped closer. He cupped her jaw with his free hand. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip. Possessive. Gentle. Wrong.
“You won’t have to,” he said. “I’ll kill them for you. That’s what husbands do, Adriana. We protect what’s ours.”
He kissed her forehead. Quick. Hard. Then he was moving again, dragging her forward.
They came out behind Moretti Tower. A service entrance. No cameras. Dante scanned his thumb and the door clicked open.
Inside: chaos. Waiters running. Guards with guns. Music stopped mid-song.
The “wedding reception” wasn’t a celebration. It was a trap.
Dante pulled her into a side room. He shoved her against the wall and caged her in with his arms. His chest was heaving. His eyes were wild.
“Listen to me,” he said. “When I say run, you run. When I say hide, you hide. When I say shoot, you shoot. No questions. No hesitation. Understand?”
Adriana nodded. She was shaking. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine,” Dante said. But his hand came up to cup her face again. His thumb traced her cheekbone like he was memorizing it. “I’m always fine, piccola. Because I don’t die until you do.”
Gunfire erupted outside the door. Screams.
Dante didn’t flinch. He just pulled her closer and kissed her. Hard. Punishing. His mouth claimed hers like he was branding her.
When he pulled back, his eyes were black with rage and something else. Need.
“Mio,” he whispered in Italian. Mine. “No matter what happens tonight, remember that.”
He pushed her behind him and opened the door.
The ballroom was destroyed. Tables overturned. Crystal shattered. Blood on the white floor.
Vittorio’s men were everywhere. Black suits. Masks. Guns.
And in the center of it all: Vittorio himself.
He was tall like Dante. But where Dante was sharp edges and ice, Vittorio was smooth. Smiling. He wore white instead of black. A mockery of a groom.
“Brother,” Vittorio called out. He spread his arms wide. “You didn’t invite me to the wedding.”
Dante stepped in front of Adriana, blocking her completely. His gun was aimed at Vittorio’s chest.
“You’re not family,” Dante said. “Family doesn’t betray family.”
Vittorio laughed. “I didn’t betray you. I bought her first. Antonio promised her to me three years ago. Before Matteo died. Before you interfered.”
Adriana’s blood went cold. She remembered. A dinner when she was 17. Her father introducing her to a man with a white suit and dead eyes. _Vittorio Moretti. A friend of the family._
Dante’s jaw ticked. “She’s not property to sell. And she’s my wife now. The contract is signed.”
“The contract I wrote first,” Vittorio said. He held up a paper. Adriana’s signature. Younger. Shaky. “She agreed to marry me when she turned 21. That’s today, Dante. Today she’s mine.”
“No,” Adriana whispered. She stepped out from behind Dante. “I don’t remember that.”
“You were drunk,” Vittorio said. He smiled at her. “At your 18th birthday party. Your father gave you wine. I gave you a pen. You signed because you thought it was a birthday card.”
Dante fired. The bullet tore through the paper in Vittorio’s hand.
“Don’t speak to her,” Dante growled. “Don’t look at her. Don’t say her name.”
Vittorio didn’t even flinch. “You’ll have to kill me, brother. And you won’t. Because if you do, I’ll make sure everyone knows the Moretti secret.”
Dante went still. “What secret?”
Vittorio smiled wider. “That your father didn’t kill Matteo. You did. You pulled the trigger, Dante. I have the video.”
The world tilted. Adriana looked at Dante. His face was stone. But his eyes... his eyes said it was true.
“You lied,” she whispered. “You said you ordered it. You said my father did it.”
Dante didn’t look at her. He kept his gun aimed at Vittorio. “I lied to protect you.”
“From what? The truth?” Adriana’s voice broke. “You killed my brother?”
“I killed a threat,” Dante said. Finally, he looked at her. “Matteo was going to expose the Moretti family. Expose you. I chose you over him. I’d do it again.”
Vittorio clapped slowly. “Touching. But she’s still mine by contract. And by law.” He snapped his fingers. Two men grabbed Adriana’s arms.
Dante moved. Faster than anyone could track. He fired twice. Both men dropped.
He pulled Adriana against his chest, gun still aimed at Vittorio.
“She’s not yours,” Dante said. “She’s mine. Body, mind, and soul. I claimed her. I marked her. I’ll burn this city before I let you touch her.”
Vittorio’s smile dropped. “Then we do this the hard way.” He raised his own gun.
All around them, men raised their guns too. Dante’s men. Vittorio’s men. Stalemate.
Dante’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t answer it.
But Adriana saw the screen. _Unknown Number: She’s pregnant. DNA confirms. Moretti heir._
Adriana’s blood turned to ice.
Pregnant? That was impossible. She’d just married him hours ago.
Unless... unless Dante lied about that too.
Dante felt her go rigid in his arms. He glanced at the phone. His face didn’t change. But his grip on her tightened until it hurt.
“Who sent that?” Adriana whispered.
Dante didn’t answer. He just lifted her into his arms and turned, using his body as a shield.
“Run,” he told his men. “Get her out. Now.”
He fired into the ceiling. Lights exploded. Glass rained down. Chaos.
In the confusion, Dante shoved Adriana into Luca’s arms. “Get her to the car. Underground exit. Don’t let anyone touch her.”
Luca nodded and pulled her away. But Adriana twisted, looking back at Dante.
“Dante, are you—”
He was already moving toward Vittorio. Gun raised. Face empty.
“No one touches what’s mine,” he said. His voice was flat. Dead.
Vittorio smiled. “Let’s see if you can keep her, brother.”
Gunfire erupted.
Luca dragged Adriana through a hidden door as bullets tore through the air behind them.
As the door closed, she saw Dante turn. Not toward Vittorio. Toward her.
His lips formed two words: _I’m sorry._
Then the door slammed shut. Darkness.
Adriana pounded on it. “Dante! Dante!”
Luca pulled her back. “We have to go, Mrs. Moretti. Now.”
Mrs. Moretti. The title felt like a cage.
In her pocket, her phone buzzed again. Unknown Number: _The baby isn’t his. It’s mine. Vittorio. And I’m coming to collect both of you._
Adriana dropped the phone. It shattered on the concrete floor.
Luca didn’t notice. He was dragging her down another tunnel. Away from Dante. Away from the gunfire.
But all Adriana could hear was Dante’s voice in her head: _I killed a threat. I chose you._
And Vittorio’s last words: _She’s pregnant. With my child._
She pressed a hand to her stomach. Flat. Empty.
Unless he was lying.
Unless Dante was lying.
Unless everyone was lying.
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- Writer
