Your Wedding Night

Celeste's POV

His shoulder cleared the doorway and I forced my shaking body upright on the bed. "Vance."

He went down on one knee beside me. "Frost."

Only Nathan had ever called me that. The sound of it tore something open, and I grabbed for Vance's hand. "Please help me. You were Syndicate. You can't just stand there and let this happen."

He pulled free. Whatever had been in his face went out. "I'm with the Ndrangheta now."

He rose like the talk was finished. My voice broke anyway. "Then what's going to happen to me? What does your Capo want?"

Pity moved through his eyes, and it frightened me worse than the cold had. "The Syndicate hit us first. Lorenzo wants payback."

"I'm not part of your business," I said.

"You're Marco's niece. Your father and your fiancé rank high in the Syndicate."

I stared at my hands knotted in what was left of the dress. The knuckles had gone white. "So he hurts me to make them pay?" I couldn't keep the words steady. I tried. They split anyway.

"He didn't give me the details," Vance said. "My guess is he uses you to push your uncle into giving up territory."

Uncle Marco would never hand over ground. Not for family. Not for me. I had nothing left to hold, and the dizziness surged back. I folded onto the mattress.

Lorenzo's voice cut across the room before the dark took me. "Change of plans. Let her sleep it off while we drive. We've sat in this motel too long. Cassian called again. Castellano's men are out looking for her. Helicopter's waiting in Kansas. We leave now."

Marco was searching. Dad, Damon, Gabriel. They were out there. Hope hadn't gone out yet.

I woke curled in the back of a moving car, the wedding dress crushed and wrinkled under me. Vance had his eyes on the road. Lorenzo was on the phone.

I couldn't tell whether they'd drugged me again or the last dose was still working through me. No food all day. No water. A soft sound slipped out of me.

Both of them turned. The stares were ice, and I drew in on myself against the seat.

I lost the miles. The next time I surfaced we were in a helicopter, dropping toward the sprawl of lights that was Las Vegas.

We landed. Vance got me out. Lorenzo stayed on a call. The dress felt filthy and heavy, and my head still wouldn't clear. They pushed me into another car. It stopped outside a strip club that looked half dead already.

Vance clamped a hand around my arm. Lorenzo walked ahead and never glanced back.

"Vance." He didn't answer. "I feel sick. I need the bathroom."

Inside the stall I hated that he could hear me. I searched for anything I could use. A weapon. A shard. Nothing. I finished and pulled in slow breaths, packing the panic down where it wouldn't show.

"Celeste." Flat through the door. "Don't make me come in there. You won't like it."

I came out weak, dried out to the bone. At the sink I washed my face and drank from the tap until the burn in my throat eased.

"You can have a Coke from the bar," Vance said. He caught my arm and dragged me forward. My bare feet ached with every step. The ground had cut them. A few women stood at the bar. None of them looked at me.

Nobody here was going to help.

"Vance," I whispered.

"Coke," he told the bartender. The man opened a bottle and handed it over without ever meeting my eyes.

Where had they taken me.

"Drink." Vance put the bottle in my hand. A few cold swallows cleared a little of the fog.

"Come on." He hauled me down a hall and stopped at another door. My stomach turned before he opened it.

Two men waited inside. Tall, hard in the face, carrying that Grimaldi cruelty in the way they stood. One had gray eyes. The other was younger. I tried to place them, and then I saw Lorenzo and the rest dropped away.

His shirt was gone. A fresh wound ran along his side, stitched and still bleeding. Muscle and old scars under the light. My heart slammed.

"Your twin nearly finished me," Lorenzo said, and laughed. "Not enough to stop me walking out with his beloved sister." He twisted beloved until it sounded filthy.

Vance let go of my arm and went to stand with them. I was left alone in the center of the room under their eyes, and I felt like meat laid out for inspection. A cold weight settled in my chest. Maybe that was all I was to them now.

Lorenzo indicated the gray-eyed man. "Cassian. My brother." Then the younger one. "Enzo. My brother."

He moved in, body drawn tight, closing the space like he meant to take it. I held still. I would not step back. I would not show him fear, and I would not give him a tear. Pride was the one thing I could keep him from taking. I already knew I couldn't stop him from taking the rest.

"Celeste Castellano." He let it hang while he circled, then stopped behind me where I couldn't see him.

His breath touched my neck. I killed the shiver. "Not Castellano. That's my uncle's name. Not mine."

"Every way that matters," he said, close to my skin, "you belong to the Castellano name."

I dug my nails into my palms. Cassian's gray eyes followed that small motion and didn't change. Vance sat on the desk, watching Lorenzo, never me. Enzo studied me, quiet and calculating.

I kept my mouth shut and my eyes ahead. Lorenzo came around and stopped in front of me. Barefoot, I barely reached his chin. I wanted the heels. I lifted my head anyway.

His mouth crooked. "I hear you were supposed to marry Damon Bellini yesterday." The look on him went mean. "Seems I walked off with your wedding night."

My mother's voice came back, promising Damon would treat me well, that I wouldn't have to fear him after that night. Nathan had sworn he'd handle Damon if the man ever mistreated me.

Under Lorenzo those worries looked small and stupid. A fear I didn't know settled deep, and I forced it down. Pride was all I had left. I meant to hold it.

His eyes moved over me, and his voice dropped to something low and threatening. "I wonder if you let Damon have a taste of you before the wedding."