Chapter 3 - The Wedding I Never Meant to Abandon
Lorenzo ordered every exterior light turned off.
Within sixty seconds, the lodge changed.
Curtains closed.
Doors locked.
Two guards appeared from somewhere on the property and took positions outside.
Marco killed the Wi-Fi.
Lorenzo stood in the middle of the living room with the anonymous message glowing on the phone in his hand.
I watched the man I loved become the man Chicago feared.
His shoulders straightened.
His breathing slowed.
His eyes lost every trace of uncertainty.
“Who knew we were coming here?” he asked.
Marco answered immediately.
“You, me, Anton driving, two security men already stationed here, and Ward.”
“Anyone in Chicago?”
“No.”
“Who dispatched Anton?”
“I did.”
“Who knew you were flying to Colorado?”
Marco paused.
That was enough.
Lorenzo looked at him.
“Who?”
“Dante.”
My stomach dropped.
Marco continued quickly.
“He knew we had a location lead. Not the exact town.”
“Why did he know?”
“He was in the operations room when the pharmacy alert came through.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
I stood too quickly.
The room tilted.
Lorenzo caught my elbow.
“Sit down.”
“I’m not helpless.”
“You have pneumonia.”
“Bronchitis.”
“Ward said bordering on pneumonia.”
“That is not the point.”
“It becomes the point if you fall over.”
Marco looked between us, perhaps recognizing for the first time that despite fourteen days apart, Lorenzo and I were still behaving like ourselves.
It almost made me cry.
Lorenzo guided me back toward the sofa.
“Tell me about Dante,” I said.
Marco frowned.
“You think Dante is involved?”
“I don’t know.”
Lorenzo’s answer was colder.
“But we’re going to find out.”
I looked at Marco.
“Three nights before the wedding, I was abducted from the garage under my office.”
His face changed instantly.
“What?”
“They forced me to run.”
I turned slightly and pulled my sweater just far enough to expose the edge of the scar.
Marco stared.
“Jesus Christ.”
“The men who did it said someone from Lorenzo’s bloodline helped them.”
Marco looked toward Lorenzo.
“No.”
“That was my reaction,” Lorenzo said.
“Dante grew up with us.”
“So did half the men we buried.”
The words landed heavily.
Marco paced to the fireplace.
“You think Dante gave them security information?”
“I think we don’t know yet.”
I asked, “Can you reconstruct the days before the wedding?”
Marco nodded slowly.
“Most of it.”
“Start with the garage.”
The three of us spent the next hour rebuilding my last seventy-two hours before I disappeared.
Piece by piece.
Monday afternoon, a florist appointment.
Monday evening, dinner with Lorenzo’s mother.
Tuesday morning, final dress fitting.
Tuesday afternoon, work.
Tuesday evening—
The kidnapping.
“Your driver called in sick,” Marco said.
I looked up.
“Yes. I drove myself.”
“His name?”
“Paul Reynolds.”
Marco took notes.
“He quit the next week.”
Lorenzo looked at him sharply.
“What?”
“Said his mother was ill.”
“Find him.”
Marco sent the instruction through an encrypted device.
“Security cameras?”
“Down for maintenance,” I said.
Lorenzo’s gaze darkened.
“Approved by Dante.”
Marco exhaled.
One coincidence.
Then another.
Then another.
By midnight, the pattern had become difficult to ignore.
Dante had approved the camera repair.
Dante knew the route from my office.
Dante helped coordinate wedding security.
Dante had access to the private family schedule.
And most importantly, Dante had personally recommended the hotel where my bridal suite was located.
“Why?” I whispered.
Lorenzo stared into the fire.
“Money.”
Marco shook his head.
“Dante has money.”
“Power,” Lorenzo said.
“His father was passed over when yours became boss.”
“Dante never cared about that.”
“Maybe he cared more than we knew.”
I wrapped the blanket tighter.
Memories of the wedding week returned in pieces.
Dante bringing champagne.
Dante teasing Lorenzo.
Dante telling me I was the only woman who had ever made his cousin human.
Had all of it been theater?
I closed my eyes.
Suddenly I was back in Chicago.
Three nights before the wedding.
The parking garage was nearly empty.
I had left the office later than expected.
My heels clicked across concrete.
I pressed the button on my key fob.
My headlights blinked two rows away.
Then someone stepped behind me.
A hand covered my mouth.
Another arm caught my waist.
I fought.
Hard.
My elbow hit someone’s ribs.
A man swore.
Then something sharp touched my neck.
The world dissolved.
When I woke, I was tied to a metal chair.
The room smelled of damp concrete and gasoline.
My wrists were numb.
A single hanging bulb moved above me.
Three men stood nearby.
One wore a ski mask.
One did not.
The third remained mostly in shadow.
“You’re going to help us,” the unmasked man had said.
“I don’t know anything.”
“You know Lorenzo.”
“That doesn’t mean I know his business.”
“You know his routines.”
I said nothing.
The man smiled.
Then he placed photographs on my lap.
Lorenzo leaving his office.
Lorenzo entering a restaurant.
Lorenzo’s mother outside church.
Marco walking his dog.
My own apartment.
My throat closed.
“We know where everyone goes,” the man said.
“What do you want?”
“You’re not going to marry Lorenzo Bianco.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“You will leave on your wedding day.”
“No.”
He slapped me.
Hard enough to taste blood.
I looked back at him.
“No.”
He smiled.
“I hoped you’d say that.”
Another man brought out the metal instrument.
Even now, two weeks later, I could remember the way it glowed.
Red.
The smell arrived before the pain.
My scream echoed through the room.
“Amelia.”
I opened my eyes.
Lorenzo was crouched in front of me.
The lodge.
Colorado.
Firelight.
Not the basement.
“You disappeared for a second,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I remember more.”
Marco moved closer.
“What?”
“The room.”
“Location?”
“I couldn’t see outside.”
“Sounds?”
I concentrated.
“There was a train.”
Lorenzo and Marco looked at each other.
“A train?” Marco asked.
“Twice.”
“What else?”
I closed my eyes again.
“Church bells.”
“What pattern?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Lorenzo shot Marco a look.
“Enough.”
“No.” I touched Lorenzo’s arm. “He’s right.”
I forced myself deeper into the memory.
Cold floor.
Metal chair.
Pain.
Men talking.
A train horn.
Then—
Bells.
“One bell first. Then several.”
Marco typed something.
“Could be St. Agnes near the freight corridor.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“Valenti owns property there.”
“What kind?”
“Warehouses.”
My pulse climbed.
“That could be it.”
Marco looked grim.
“If we identify the warehouse, we might get camera footage around the area.”
“Two weeks later?”
“Traffic cameras.”
Lorenzo stood.
“We do nothing until we know whether Dante is involved.”
I looked at him.
“You’re protecting him.”
“I’m protecting us from making a mistake.”
“Lorenzo—”
“If Dante betrayed us, I want proof before he realizes we suspect him.”
He was right.
I hated that he was right.
Marco’s phone vibrated again.
This time, he answered.
He listened silently.
Then looked at Lorenzo.
“We found Reynolds.”
“My driver?”
Marco nodded.
“Where?”
“Indiana.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Bring him somewhere safe.”
“He already wants to talk.”
That surprised all of us.
“Why?” Lorenzo asked.
Marco covered the receiver briefly.
“He says he has been waiting for someone from the Bianco family to find him.”
Lorenzo took the phone.
“This is Lorenzo Bianco.”
I watched his expression.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
“What did they threaten you with?”
More silence.
Then Lorenzo’s face changed.
“Who?”
His eyes moved toward me.
I knew before he spoke.
“Say the name again.”
A long pause.
Lorenzo disconnected.
No one moved.
Finally I asked, “What did he say?”
Lorenzo looked at Marco.
Then at me.
“Reynolds didn’t call in sick voluntarily.”
“What happened?”
“Someone paid his sister’s gambling debt.”
Marco frowned.
“That isn’t enough to make him disappear.”
“No.”
Lorenzo’s voice became flat.
“Then they showed him pictures of his eight-year-old daughter walking home from school.”
I felt sick.
“Who contacted him?”
Lorenzo did not answer immediately.
“Dante.”
The room seemed to contract.
Marco whispered, “No.”
“Reynolds says Dante told him to stay home Tuesday night. Said it was a family security operation.”
My skin went cold.
There it was.
Not proof of everything.
But enough.
Lorenzo walked toward the fireplace.
For several seconds, he stared into the flames.
“Dante stood beside me at the altar.”
I remembered.
Dante adjusting Lorenzo’s tie.
Laughing.
Telling him I was late because brides enjoyed torture.
While knowing I was already running for my life.
Lorenzo turned.
“Marco.”
“Yes.”
“Call Chicago.”
“What do you want done?”
“Nothing.”
Marco blinked.
“Nothing?”
“Dante cannot know we suspect him.”
“And if he already knows Amelia told you?”
“Then he’ll move.”
“Move where?”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“To whoever is protecting him.”
I understood.
“You want to follow him.”
“Yes.”
Marco nodded.
“I’ll put eyes on him.”
“No Bianco men.”
“Why?”
“If he turned one, he may have turned others.”
A terrible truth settled over the room.
We no longer knew who was loyal.
Not in Chicago.
Not around Lorenzo.
Maybe not even among the men protecting this lodge.
I looked toward the dark windows.
Suddenly the isolated house did not feel safe.
It felt like a box.
“Lorenzo.”
He followed my gaze.
Then he saw it too.
A tiny red dot appeared briefly against the curtain.
And disappeared.
Lorenzo moved before I could scream.
He threw himself toward me.
Glass exploded.
The bullet tore through the window exactly where my head had been.
Lorenzo dragged me to the floor.
Marco pulled a gun.
Outside, men began shouting.
Another shot struck the stone fireplace.
Lorenzo covered my body with his.
May you like
And as bullets began hitting the lodge, I realized our enemy had stopped trying to frighten me.
They had decided to finish what they started.
