"I did not lie to you."

"The blood gushing from your shoulder suggests otherwise," Rosa hissed.

Cristiano seemed more concerned about her reaction than his wound when he pushed back, "I lost you once, and it gutted me. Do you think I would risk pissing you off after the hell I went through to find you again?"

She kept eyeing his shoulder obsessively, applying pressure with her palm to slow the blood loss. In distracted tones, Rosa muttered, "With you? Who knows!"

Pulling himself upright, he insisted once more with a pained grunt, "I swear, I did not lie."

"You deceived me just now—when I asked if you were hurt."

Cristiano was undoubtedly worried about losing her trust again when he protested, "When you asked if I was hurt, I believed I was fine. The blood on my hands truly did belong to Mesrine's man."

"Then why did you start bleeding?"

"I must have reopened the wound on my shoulder while interrogating Ruperto."

Ruperto?

Rosa recognized this name from Armand's phone.

Putain.

"Sounds like a violent interrogation."

"He was being stubborn at first," admitted Cristiano. "Thus, I was forced to use more heavy-handed methods."

So heavy-handed that the gunshot wound she gave split open again?

Dieu.

Her mind felt thick and slow. Mesrine's man hadn't been the one to maim Cristiano. It was hard to process every detail thrown at her. Both hands were becoming soaked—in his blood. Rosa's mouth parted, sucking in a sharp breath as she tried to refocus. Panic struck her.

Guilt as well.

Mesrine might be the one who wanted Cristiano dead, but she was the one who'd put his life in danger. His sorry state was a result of her handiwork. A sickness churned her stomach. Rosa had never been one to lose her shit in the presence of violence and gore. But shit felt different when it was spilling from a bullet wound that had been her fault.

Merde.

Merde.

Merde.

Why was there so much blood?

"No need for melodramatics," Rosa chided faintly. "Conserve your strength. I do not wish to quarrel. We need to stop this bleeding before it gets worse."

"How?"

"Give me some light."

The flashlight on his phone switched on. As darkness lifted away, their eyes met in a clash of gold and obsidian. Holding his gaze, Rosa carefully helped Cristiano remove his blazer and shirt. Her heart dropped at the sight of the nasty gash on his tattooed, muscled shoulder. It was shaped like a jagged star, and the stitches were ripped open.

"I am sorry for what I did," she whispered.

"Do not be," he returned. "Like you said, I deserved it."

Releasing a mirthless laugh, Rosa shredded his dress shirt with her switchblade, slicing the fabric into strips that could be used as bandages. After years of sustaining injuries in her line of work, Rosa had become rather creative with first aid using whatever makeshift materials were within reach. She wasn't a trained surgeon like Mrs. Vitale, but this layman's solution would have to suffice until they could get him real medical attention.

As Rosa wrapped the bandages around his wound, he muttered through gritted teeth, "Grazie."

Her fingers worked quickly in a practiced blur. "De rien. But you must go to a hospital as soon as possible. Promise me you will do it."

"I cannot leave yet."

Rosa's heart sank. "Because of Mesrine?"

He nodded. "By now, I assume that a woman as clever and well-connected as you has figured out that Mesrine is about to incite a massacre. I appreciate your warning, but ricin may be the least of our worries at this wedding."

Putain.

"What else is Mesrine planning to do?"

"He was planning to target me—along with a few others—before the Vitales, and then blame our deaths on Elyse and Alessandro, pushing allies and enemies alike to break the status quo."

Amber eyes thinned. "Mesrine intends to use chaos as a weapon?"

Hadn't Armand mentioned that ricin would be served to the Vitales as well?

Either the fucker had lied to her about the Vitales being on today's hit list. Or the man was too low on the totem pole to know the ins and outs of Mesrine's full strategy.

Cristiano nodded again, "He managed to lure all of his rivals here. Me—with Angelina. Rodrigo—with blackmail. Several members of De León clan—with one of their own getting married today. And Vosa."

Vosa was here, too?

Rosa remembered seeing Rodrigo's name and the De Leóns. But Vosa's name hadn't appeared on Armand's list of targets for today.

Merde.

"How did Mesrine lure a big, scary man like Vosa out of his big, scary lair?"

"Unfortunately, that is the one question I cannot answer for you."

His response was disheartening. Knowledge meant survival. Even the smallest oversights could become deadly in the world they operated in. "Your ignorance will come back to haunt us."

"Perhaps. But there is one thing I do know for certain. If Mesrine succeeds today, the aftermath will not be pretty. The strongest players in our circles will be dead, the survivors will mistakenly go after the VItales' throats for instigating this bloodbath, and Mesrine will have a clear opening to crown himself as the undisputed king once all the blood runs dry."

"How can you be sure?"

"Ruperto sang like a bird when I shoved some broken glass into his stomach. His story matches the intel I have been collecting on these matters. As far as I know, Mesrine has assigned him and three other fuckers to do the dirty work while he upholds his image as a picture-perfect wedding guest. Armand, Quincy, and Sylvie are still lurking behind the scenes. I need to remove them before they fulfill their assignments."

"You only need to worry about Quincy and Sylvie," Rosa informed him. "I knocked out Armand in the bathroom."

"Is he dead?"

"Non," Rosa confessed. "But I informed Mrs. Vitale about these threats."

"You have been working with her?"

"Oui."

Admiration flickered in his dark eyes. "Well done. As always. Her cooperation will be invaluable to us."

"Save your praise for later," she whispered. "This shitstorm has barely begun."

Rosa locked her jaw. Indeed, more obstacles were threatening their survival. So many more. Again, conflict seized her. She couldn't decide whether to stick to the original plan and focus on saving Angelina. Or shift gears to stay here and fight alongside Cristiano.

"You are right. The path to victory will not be easy for us," he agreed with a sigh. "But Mesrine and his men need to be contained by any means necessary."

"By you?"

"Naturally."

With her heart pounding, she tied a knot to hold the bandages in place and helped him put his clothes back on. What remained of them, anyway. The dress shirt was irreparable, but, fortunately, the blood stains weren't too noticeable on the black wool of the blazer.

She glared at him. "I have no interest in becoming a hero and neither should you. It goes against our very nature. If you turn yourself into a martyr, mon beau, I will not hesitate to drag you from the grave and kill you again."

"I wish I had a choice in this matter. But I must stay."

"Why?"

"To ensure that Mesrine and his men do not leave this wedding."

"Fuck Mesrine."

Staring at her intently, Cristiano asked, "How much are you willing to trust me, Rosa? I meant it earlier when I said your assistance will be necessary."

I understand that I may be the last man you wish to see right now, but I have done all that I can.

At this point, Cristiano didn't need to say another word.

Going forward, I need your help.

Whether or not he deserved her trust, Rosa found herself willing to go to hell and back for this man. Love was irrational in this way. Absurde. Positively masochistic. "Tell me what else I must do, and it will be done."

Cristiano reached around her to open the door. He pulled on her wrist. "Come. Time is running out."

Rosa hurried down the hallway after him, struggling to match his longer strides. "Where are we going?"

"First, I must locate someone named Dmitri."

"What about Quincy and Sylvie?"

"They are no longer a priority."

"Why is Dmitri so special?"
"Dmitri Tarasova calls himself a world-renowned chemist, but he is more of an international terrorist who sells his soul to the highest bidder. Mesrine ordered him to rig the villa with IEDs as a backup plan. In case the Ruperto and his friends failed to kill us."

"He is planning to set off explosives?"

Cristiano led her further into the villa. "I suspect they will be disguised as fireworks, but I cannot be sure until I find Dmitri."

They rushed down another corridor, passing by a library and study. Just then, Rosa's phone finally vibrated with an update from Mrs. Vitale.

Unknown Sender: Thank you for the warning. I apologize for the delayed response. My security team and I have our hands full with damage control. We caught Sylvie and Quincy. I just received confirmation that a few of our guests, including Rodrigo Gallo, Valentina Rizzo, and Filberte De León, have been poisoned. We also discovered that there may also be explosives on site.

She read the message and cursed, "Putain. They got Rodrigo, Valentina, and Filberte."

Cristiano glanced at her screen. "Fuck, indeed."

"At least, she already knows about the bombs."

"But the Vitales may not have time to contain them with everything else on their plate. Once I convince Dmitri to help us locate the bombs, my men can dispose of them. Until then, I must prevent Mesrine from leaving the Vitales' villa. As long as Mesrine remains in striking range, Dmitri will not be ordered to set off the explosives."

"I do not like the idea of you staying here," Rosa hissed anxiously. "In fact, I fucking hate i—"

Her voice trailed off when footsteps echoed around the corner. As the noise grew louder, the rhythmic thumps sounded like not one but several pairs of feet. Both Rosa and Cristiano grew still and alert as their attention shifted to the intruders.

Why was there such a large group of people coming their way?

This section of the villa was supposed to be off-limits for guests. Furthermore, the ceremony wasn't even over yet. At this time, the singing and sermon were barely wrapping up, so guests would be getting ready for the bride and groom to exchange their vows while staff was busy in the kitchen preparing for the garden reception. Rosa grew tense.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The pounding feet neared the end of the adjoining hallway. Rosa shared a knowing look with Cristiano as they prepared to meet their fate head-on. No words were needed. They were prepared to fight. Together. To the death. If needed. He pulled out his gun, and her fingers closed around the Heckler & Koch that she stole from Armand. Suddenly, the footfalls stilled right before the intruders could show their faces.

A sharp, angry voice cut through the air, "Où sont Armand et Ruperto ?"

Where are Armand and Ruperto?

Rosa didn't recognize the man's voice, but the fluency in his French told her everything she needed to know.

"Ils ont disparu."

They have gone missing.

"Les trouver. Maintenan."

Find them. Now.

Then, the footsteps started again. Their shadows stretched around the corner. The moment the men came into view, Cristiano and Rosa sprung into action, not giving their opponents a chance to grab their weapons. Working in unison, they disarmed them efficiently. Firearms clattered to the floor. They pocketed two more guns. The other three were kicked out of sight and out of reach. Amid the burst of violence, Rosa's amber gaze caught a flash of pale blue eyes and white-blonde hair.

Putain!

Putain!

Putain!

Did the fucker recognize her with the mask and wig?

Rosa didn't know. Her heart started racing madly, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was now breaking someone's kneecaps. Groans of pain filled the air. There were five men in total. When the fuckers realized that Rosa and Cristiano weren't fucking around, the fifth man immediately moved aside to keep himself out of harm's way while the other four formed a protective barrier around him. Once everyone started fighting, chaos erupted in a blur of flying fists and bodies slamming to the ground.

When someone's shoulder rammed into her cheek, she was tempted to shoot them all and call it day. But these men needed to be kept alive for questioning. Just in case they had information about Angelina. She kicked him in the balls instead. From the corner of her eye, Rosa saw Cristiano catch a white-knuckled fist to the mouth. But he didn't seem to mind.

The bastard actually smiled as he spat out the blood.

Frantically, she scanned her surroundings. One of the bodyguards was crawling toward a gun. With perfect aim, Rosa shot out his arms and legs until he could no longer move. The onslaught didn't last long. Even though they were outnumbered, as a team, Rosa and Cristiano were faster and far more vicious than their counterparts.

Even with a busted shoulder, Cristiano's movements were more machine than man. Every strike was full of deadly purpose. Each blow was dealt with fatal grace. One by one, their enemies crumpled to the ground in bloodied unconscious heaps. Rosa knocked out the balding one with the butt of her gun to the back of his head, and Cristiano—on his own—took out three grown men within minutes. Soon, only one was left standing.

Mesrine.

He looked maddeningly unbothered about his fallen men. Smug even. Rosa's adrenaline was still pumping as she raised her gun to the father of her dead child, fantasizing about avenging Nijah with a pull of the trigger. Fear twined with fury. Rosa was practically trembling from it. Hatred boiled under her skin like scalding acid.

Mesrine seemed to sense her lethal intent. He studied her as though biding his time for the perfect time to strike. Drained from the fight and feeling emotional as hell, Rosa blinked and let her guard down for one second, and, in that moment, Mesrine leaped forward without warning, yanked away her gun, and then shoved the barrel against her throat.

For a second, Rosa's life flashed before her eyes. She suddenly realized that Cristiano had yet to reveal what he needed her to do. There hadn't been enough time. There was never enough time with the bastard. Dieu. An eternity wouldn't be enough with her mon beau. Rosa bit back a scream of despair as she tried to break away. Murder raged in Cristiano's devil-black gaze as he immediately aimed his Beretta at Mesrine's head.

"Let her go," he thundered in a voice that demanded obedience.

"Or else," Mesrine taunted, "what?"

"I will shoot your face off."

"If you kill me," warned Mesrine, undoing the safety lock with an ominous click, "she dies, too."

Rosa felt the barrel dig deeper into her flesh. Cristiano's face grew pale even though his arm didn't waver. He refrained from pulling the trigger, though. Mesrine's grip only tightened around Rosa. The fucker didn't appear to hold much interest in granting anyone's requests. She felt nauseous with terror, berating herself for her own carelessness at such a critical moment.

"It seems we are at an impasse."

"Are we?"

Grinning like a loon, Mesrine purred in dangerous tones to Cristiano, "You should never have broken our agreement, tas de merde. But I will forgive your transgression if you let me keep my little Inès. Tell you what. Walk away now, Massera, and leave her with me. Then, you will be given the address to find your sister and niece, and everyone will be happy. What do you say?"

***

Ahhhh! What will Cristiano dooooo?

Thoughts?

Feelings?

Predictions?

Follow me on Wattpad @uxecila or on Instagram @tafanwrites for more updates. Next chapter will be posted in one week on Friday, May 31, 2024. <3