Chapter 47 The Moment He Took Her Back
Marco
Marco was already uneasy when the gunshot came.
Not because of noise.
Noise was common.
Noise could be explained.
What unsettled him was the silence before it.
The chapel should have been sealed by now—every perimeter checked, every corridor cleared, every exit monitored. Vitale security was flawless. Romano men were layered beneath them. The city’s most dangerous people were sitting quietly in polished pews, pretending this was holy.
And yet—
Too many delays.
Too many reports that arrived half a second late.
Too many confirmations that sounded rehearsed instead of certain.
Marco stood near the side entrance, away from the altar, one hand wrapped around a glass he hadn’t touched. His eyes flicked to the discreet security monitor mounted near the column.
Green lights.
All green.
That bothered him.
Vitale stood beside him, relaxed, hands folded behind his back like a man admiring his own work.
“He won’t come,” Vitale murmured. “He has no idea what is happening. Remember? we made sure that everybody has the wrong information. Even the people that were at the engagement think that the wedding is in a month. Unless you spoke myside would never. They really want this.”
Marco didn’t answer.
Because Alessandro De Luca was not predictable when wounded.
And tonight, everything had been designed to wound him but he wouldnt know what is happening tonight until it was too late. Still the things that he did know made him dangerous.
The engagement.
The silence.
The disappearance.
The photos.
The lie that she had stopped waiting.
Marco had wanted Alessandro desperate.
But desperation had a dangerous twin.
Resolve.
A man in an earpiece approached, speaking quietly.
“No activity detected outside the perimeter.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
Vitale smiled faintly. “See?”
Marco’s gaze slid back to the chapel doors.
The priest was nearing the end.
The ring was being lifted.
This should have felt like victory.
Instead, Marco felt something cold crawl up his spine.
Then—
BANG.
The sound tore through the chapel like thunder splitting stone.
A single gunshot.
Clean.
Intentional.
Not panic.
Not an accident.
The glass in Marco’s hand shattered.
The room erupted.
And Marco knew—before anyone said a word—
Alessandro had never disappeared.
Isabella
She didn’t understand what was happening at first.
Only that the world exploded.
Sound.
Movement.
Shouting.
The candles flickered violently, shadows leaping across the stone walls. Someone screamed. Someone else ducked. Chairs scraped. Bodies surged.
Her heart slammed into her ribs.
Instinct took over.
Hands grabbed her arms.
Firm.
Urgent.
Not cruel.
Not gentle.
She was pulled sideways, away from the altar, away from Luca, away from everything she had been bracing herself to survive.
“No—” she gasped.
A voice barked orders she didn’t recognize.
She stumbled.
Her shoes slipped on stone.
The veil tore free from her hair.
She was being moved fast.
Too fast.
This wasn’t ceremony.
This was extraction.
They burst through a side door into cold night air.
The sudden quiet was shocking.
No music.
No prayers.
Just breathing.
Footsteps.
Engines idling nearby.
Someone shoved her forward—and then—
The grip on her arm changed.
Different hands.
Familiar hands.
Her body knew before her mind did.
She twisted—
And there he was.
Alessandro.
Blood at his hairline.
Jaw clenched.
Eyes burning.
Alive.
Her knees gave out.
He caught her instantly, arms locking around her like he was afraid she would vanish again.
“Isabella,” he said—hoarse, broken.
She made a sound that wasn’t language.
A sob tore out of her chest as she hit him with both hands, fists pounding weakly against his chest.
“You didn’t come,” she cried. “You didn’t—”
“I know,” he said, pulling her closer. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He put her back on her feet, hands firm on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.
“I was wrong,” he said. “I waited. I planned. And I broke you.”
Her face crumpled.
Tears spilled freely now—hot, uncontrollable.
“I thought you left me,” she sobbed. “I thought I wasn’t enough.”
His face shattered.
He kissed her.
Not gentle.
Not careful.
A kiss full of apology and desperation and relief and pain—like grounding himself in the proof that she was real.
She broke completely.
Crying and laughing at once, clutching his jacket, breath hitching in gasps.
“You’re here,” she cried. “You’re really here.”
“I’m not letting you go,” he said into her hair. “Not ever again.”
He turned, already moving.
The car door was open.
Men shouting.
Engines revving.
He guided her inside, shielding her with his body.
She didn’t ask where they were going.
She didn’t care.
The door slammed.
The car lurched forward.
The chapel disappeared behind them in a blur of light and stone and shattered certainty.
Isabella curled into him, fingers buried in his shirt, tears soaking into his skin.
Alessandro held her like she might break again if he loosened his grip.
They drove into the night.
Toward nowhere.
Toward everything.
And for the first time in days—
Isabella believed she was alive.