She Crashed a Mafia Wedding—Then the Mafia Boss Whispered, You're Mine Now

By four o'clock that afternoon, Maya had showered, dressed in a simple yet stunning navy blue silk midi dress from the closet, and was sitting in Vincent’s high-ceilinged library.

Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, stretching up to a grand mahogany balcony. Outside, the rain had returned, tapping rhythmically against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the ocean.

A sudden knock at the door signaled Harrison’s entry. The elderly butler carried a silver tea tray, accompanied by Dante—Vincent’s imposing, scarred head of security.

Dante nodded respectfully to Maya before turning to Vincent, who sat behind a grand executive desk reviewing papers.

"Boss," Dante said, his tone grim. "We located Marcus Hail."

Maya’s cup rattled against her saucer. She set it down quickly, her eyes wide as she looked up.

Vincent didn't look up from his file. "Where?"

"He didn't run," Dante revealed, jaw tight. "He went straight to Don Moretti’s estate in the East District last night. It appears Hail wasn't just some random low-level abuser, Boss. He's been working as a money launderer for the Moretti family's offshore accounts for two years."

Maya gasped softly. "What?"

Vincent set his pen down slowly, his dark eyes narrowing. "Explain."

"Hail owes five hundred thousand dollars in gambling debts to Moretti’s loan sharks," Dante continued. "He went to Moretti, claiming that Maya possessed key security passcodes to the financial files he stole—files that could ruin both Moretti and the Torino Syndicate if exposed. Moretti has given Hail twenty enforcers and a green light to take her back."

Maya felt the floor beneath her sway. "That's a lie! I don't have any passcodes! Marcus locked me in his apartment for months! He made up those lies to get Moretti’s protection so Vincent wouldn't kill him!"

Vincent stood up from his desk. He walked around the polished mahogany, stopping right in front of Maya’s chair. He crouched down until his eyes were level with hers.

"I know it's a lie, Maya," Vincent said gently, taking her hands in his. "Marcus Hail is a desperate coward who realized he picked a fight with the wrong man, so he ran to a bigger bully for shelter."

"He's coming here, isn't he?" she whispered, horror choking her throat. "He's going to bring those men here."

"Let them come," Vincent said, his tone devoid of any fear, holding only lethal promise. "This house is an iron fortress. But we have a summit tonight in the city center. Every boss from the Five Families will be there. I cannot leave you here unguarded if Moretti launches a distraction attack."

"So what do I do?" Maya asked, holding his hands tightly, surprised by how much she depended on his touch now.

"You come with me," Vincent said. "Under my arm, under my gun, and under my name. Tonight, Maya, you stop running."

Two hours later, a motorcade of three armored black SUVs wound its way down the wet mountain road toward downtown Grayhaven.

Maya sat beside Vincent in the middle vehicle. He had given her a small, sleek silver dagger to keep in her purse—a token of protection, but also a symbol that she was no longer defenseless.

As they entered the industrial warehouse district near the docks—the shortcut to the syndicate summit—the lead SUV suddenly swerved violently.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion rocked the street. The lead vehicle flipped onto its side, bursting into flames as a rocket-propelled grenade detonated against its reinforced grill.

"AMBUSH!" Dante roared from the front passenger seat, pulling two automatic pistols from his shoulder holsters. "Boss, hit the deck!"

The Maybach slammed to a halt. Bullets immediately rained down on the armored glass like hail, cracking the outer layers with deafening thump-thump-thump sounds.

Maya screamed, throwing her hands over her head, but Vincent was already over her, his broad shoulders shielding her entire body as he pressed her flat against the leather seat.

"I’ve got you," Vincent growled against her ear, his hand cradling the back of her head. "Stay down, Maya!"

Outside, shadows rushed out from the abandoned warehouses—men armed with assault rifles, wearing dark tactical gear. Among them, standing behind a thick concrete pillar with an evil, manic grin on his face, was Marcus Hail.

"Get her out of the car!" Marcus’s voice echoed through a megaphone over the gunfire. "Kill Torino, but bring the girl to me alive!"

Hearing Marcus's voice sparked something deep inside Maya—not panic, but an icy, searing rage.

She opened her eyes, looking up at Vincent. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a shoulder holster housing a heavy custom pistol. His eyes were burning with a dark, terrifying fury that made him look like an ancient deity of war.

"Stay under the seat," Vincent commanded softly, reaching down to press a button on the car's console that locked the doors from the inside with titanium bolts. "Dante, clear the left flank. I'm taking the right."

"Boss, it's too dangerous!" Dante yelled back as bullets spiderwebbed the driver's side window.