The Mafia's Chosen Bride

beneath the flickering overhead lamps. The salty tang of the sea mingled with diesel fumes, and the distant echo of waves against the docks

stood near the control cabin, his eyes scanning the maze of steel and shadow below. The night f

n," Marco barked into his radio,

tery but obedient. Marco didn't trust the kid yet,

highly sensitive documents-was the kind that could t

s loading the last crates into the trucks. Her black leather jacket seemed to absorb the dim light,

not," Marco muttered, his gaze fixed on shado

he knife at her hip. She'd seen enough nights like t

e roar of an engine,

tearing toward the convoy. Her shout cut th

halt, and masked figures poured out, automatic

ed as bullets ricocheted off the containers. Marcella lunged at the nearest att

ed through the comms, but Matteo froze, his brea

n't a random hit; they knew exactly what they were doing. His chest tightened as he

t a cry of pain escaped her lips as a bullet grazed her shoulder. She

pat, forcing her

t gunpoint. One of them, taller and broader than the rest, ba

the night. The black van roared to life, the primary truck fo

ant wail of approaching sirens. The harbor, once alive with purpose

ale, her wounded shoulder cradled in her h

fury and humiliation as he dialed Giovanni

Giovanni's v

arco rasped. "They

replied, his tone razor-sharp. "Find out who did

ost. Turning to Marcella and Matteo, he growled, "We're not leaving until we have answ

ched only by the weight of the betrayal that had unfolded. S