I walked down the aisle believing I was marrying Luke Moretti. Then I lifted my veil.

The live feed on Gabriel’s phone burned into my retinas. Leo. My little brother, strapped to a chair in some dark, suffocating room, his eyes wide with a terror no child should ever know.

“Where is he?” I screamed at the phone, lunging forward. Gabriel caught me around the waist, pulling me back against his chest.

“Ah, Claire,” Senator Callahan’s voice oozed through the speaker, dripping with false sympathy. “So protective. You have one hour to bring the evidence and sign the deed at the old textile mill on the edge of the property. Just you and Gabriel. If I see a single flashing light, or if you bring any of your newly purchased friends…”

The video feed zoomed in on a red gasoline canister sitting near Leo’s feet.

“Don't!” I sobbed, my legs giving out. Gabriel held me up, his grip like iron.

“One hour,” Callahan repeated, and the line went dead.

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of my ragged breathing.

Isabella stood frozen in the dirt road, staring at the phone. “He… he took a child?” she whispered, genuine horror cracking her polished facade. “He never told me he would take a child.”

“Get out of my sight,” Gabriel snarled at her, his voice low and vibrating with a lethal promise.

Isabella didn't argue. She dropped the music box on the ground, turned, and practically ran to one of the SUVs. The men Gabriel had bought stepped aside, letting her go. She was no longer the threat.

Gabriel knelt into the dirt and picked up the music box. He carefully took out the photograph and the receipt, slipping them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

He stood up and looked at me. The icy, untouchable mob boss was gone. In his eyes, I saw a profound, desperate sorrow.

“I promised you I would keep your family safe,” he said quietly. “I failed you.”

I wiped the tears from my face, my hands trembling, but my heart suddenly hardening into something resembling stone. I looked at this man—my husband of twenty-four hours—who had just traded his empire to save my brother.

“We aren't going to fail,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “We’re going to get him back.”

“Callahan has an army at that mill,” Gabriel warned. “It’s a fortress. If we walk in there, we are walking into a grave.”

“Then we dig our way out,” I said.

Gabriel stared at me for a long moment. Then, a slow, grim smile touched the corners of his mouth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his heavy black pistol. He checked the magazine, snapped it back into place, and handed it to me.

“Safety is here,” he said, tapping a small lever. “Point and squeeze. Do not hesitate.”

I took the cold metal in my hands. It was heavy. “What are you going to use?”

Gabriel walked to the back of our SUV and opened the trunk. He pulled out a sleek, suppressed tactical rifle. “I’m going to use this. And Marco’s men are going to surround the perimeter. They won’t go in, but if Callahan tries to leave with Leo, they will stop him.”

He closed the trunk and looked at me. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

We drove the final ten miles in absolute silence. The old textile mill loomed out of the fog like a decaying skeleton. Its windows were shattered, the brick walls covered in creeping ivy. Two black sedans were parked out front.

Gabriel stopped the car a hundred yards away. “We walk from here.”

We stepped out into the damp afternoon air. Every step toward the massive rusted doors felt like walking toward an execution. My thumb rested on the safety of the gun in my pocket.

Gabriel pushed the heavy doors open.

The interior of the mill was cavernous, smelling of mold, rust, and gasoline. Sunlight stabbed through the broken roof in dusty beams.

In the center of the room, surrounded by six armed men, stood Senator Callahan.

He was older than the man in the photograph, his hair silver, his suit impeccably tailored. He looked like a statesman. He looked nothing like a murderer.

But tied to a chair ten feet away from him, a rag stuffed in his mouth, was Leo.

“Leo!” I screamed, sprinting forward.

Two of the guards raised their rifles, stepping into my path. I stopped, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Ah, the happy couple,” Callahan smiled, clapping his hands together slowly. “Punctual. I appreciate that. Do you have the documents?”

Gabriel stepped forward, his cane tapping ominously against the concrete floor. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the photograph and the receipt.

“I have them,” Gabriel said. “Let the boy go.”

“Not just yet,” Callahan clicked his tongue. He gestured to a folding table nearby. On it sat a stack of legal documents and a pen. “Sign the deed transfer, Claire. Then I get the evidence. Then you get the boy.”

I looked at Gabriel. He gave me a barely perceptible nod.

I walked to the table. My hands shook as I picked up the pen. I scrawled my name across the dotted lines, signing away my grandfather's land, the burial site, the leverage.

I threw the pen down. “It’s done. Let him go.”

Callahan walked over to the table, inspecting the signatures. He smiled in satisfaction. He turned to Gabriel and held out his hand.

Gabriel tossed the photograph and the receipt onto the table.

Callahan picked them up. He pulled a silver lighter from his pocket, sparked a flame, and set the edges of the paper on fire. He dropped them onto the concrete floor, watching the evidence of his crimes turn to ash.

“A pleasure doing business,” Callahan said smoothly. He looked at his men. “Kill them all. Leave the boy tied to the chair and light the gas.”

My blood froze.

The guards raised their weapons.

But before a single shot could be fired, the shadows in the rafters moved.