"Which Mr. Ferrante?" Mara asked in a steady voice, despite the frantic beating of her heart.
Elena didn't blink. "Nico. He is the only one giving orders today."
Mara let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
Elena stepped into the room, shaking out the black fabric draped over her arm. "He sent me to dress you for the service. Arms up, please."
Mara complied, letting the older woman slip the heavy, expensive silk over her head. It was completely black, had long-sleeves, and fit perfectly. The uniform of a grieving widow.
"Listen closely," Elena said quickly as she buttoned up the back of Mara's neck. "You will stand next to Nico. Don't talk unless someone speaks to you. Don't make eye contact with the other families. They will be watching everything you do, looking for a weakness. Don't show them any."
Elena handed her a pair of black heels.
"Orders from Nico?" Mara asked.
"Orders from experience," Elena replied coldly. "Survive today, Mrs. Ferrante."
—
The chapel was full by the time Mara arrived.
The air was thick with the smell of burning incense and the many white roses covering the altar. The church pews were full of men in dark suits and women wearing dark veils.
At the front of the church was the closed coffin of Don Gio Ferrante draped in a deep red cloth.
Nico stood beside it, dressed in a sharp black suit.
As Father Matteo approached the casket, Nico did something that made Mara's blood run completely cold.
He dropped to one knee, bowing his head in respect and kissing the thick gold ring on the priest's finger. When Nico stood up, his dark eyes looked glassy.
A single, perfect tear rolled down his cheek, making him look exactly like a devoted, heartbroken Catholic son.
Mara stared at him in quiet horror.
Just hours ago, this same man had stood over his father's warm corpse without a shred of emotion, casually doing the math on how to steal the empire.
He was a psychopath. He was putting on a masterclass in manipulation, and every single person in the room was buying it.
Except for Uncle Bruno.
Bruno sat in the front row, watching Nico like a hawk. And sitting right beside him was a man with a silver medical case resting at his feet.
The doctor.
Mara's pulse skyrocketed. She reached Nico's side, and immediately, his large hand settled on the small of her back.
His grip was firm and possessive, and any one watching would see the grieving son leaning on his new stepmother.
"Breathe," Nico murmured, barely moving his lips, while his face still looked perfectly mournful.
"He brought the doctor," Mara whispered back frantically.
"I see him."
"Nico…"
"I said, breathe."
"I am breathing."
"Then stop looking like you're about to run."
Father Matteo began the service.
Mara tuned him out. She was too busy watching Bruno's doctor, who had pulled out a small medical kit and was now adjusting something inside it slowly.
The service dragged on. Prayers, scripture, a eulogy that Nico delivered in a flat, emotionless voice that made it clear he didn't mean a single word.
And then Father Matteo finished the final prayer, "We will now proceed to the family cemetery for the burial."
The room shifted as people stood, preparing to move outside.
Bruno stood as well. He gestured to his doctor, who picked up the medical kit and started walking straight toward Mara.
"Mrs. Ferrante," the doctor said politely. "Before we proceed to the burial, I'll need to conduct a brief examination. Just a simple blood draw and I'll return later with the results."
Mara's pulse spiked. The chapel suddenly felt entirely too small. There was nowhere to run. Nico's hand tightened on her back, but he didn't step in front of her. "Now?" she asked.
"It will only take a moment," Bruno smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
The doctor pulled a sealed syringe from his pocket. "Sleeve up, please," he requested, stepping into her personal space.
Mara looked at Nico. He just stared straight ahead, with a tight jaw.
'He lied,' she realized with a sickening jolt. 'He didn't have a plan. He was going to let them take her.'
With trembling fingers, she slowly pushed up the black silk sleeve.
The doctor wrapped a thick rubber tourniquet around her upper arm and pulled it tight. He took out an alcohol swab, the strong, chemical smell hitting her over the heavy incense. The cold, wet cotton wiped across the inside of her elbow.
Tap. Tap. The doctor flicked her vein to bring it to the surface. He uncapped the needle.
Mara squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the sharp pinch.
CRACK.
A sniper shot shattered the huge stained-glass window of the chapel, and the sound was followed immediately by screaming.
Mara didn't have time to react.
Nico grabbed her and threw her to the ground, his heavy body covering hers completely as another shot rang out.
She hit the marble floor hard, the impact knocking the air out of her lungs. Nico's weight pressed down on her, his hand cupping the back of her head, keeping it down.
"Stay down!" he barked over the noise.
More gunfire rang, followed by the sound of shouting and people scrambling for cover.
Mara's ears were ringing. She could only see the bottom of the seat in front of her and Nico's arm on the floor next to her head.
Then she felt it something wet and warm, spreading across her shoulder.
She looked up. Nico's jaw was clenched tight in pain, and his breathing was quick and shallow. Blood was dripping down the sleeve of his black suit jacket.
"You're bleeding," she gasped.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're…"
"I said I'm fine!" He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. "Move. Now."
He dragged her toward the side door of the chapel, his left arm hanging limp at his side, blood soaking through his clothes. Behind them, Nico's men were returning fire. Glass continued to shatter. Someone was screaming orders in Italian.
Nico shoved the side door open and pulled her into a narrow stone corridor.
"Where are we going?" Mara gasped.
Nico didn't respond.
He led her down the corridor, moving fast despite the bullet wound. At the end of the hall was a heavy steel door. Nico punched a code into the keypad beside it, and the lock opened with a loud clunk.
He pushed her inside first, then followed and slammed the door shut behind them.
The room was small, concrete walls, no windows, a single overhead light,a table, two chairs, and a metal cabinet bolted to the wall. The door locked automatically from the inside, sealing them in.
Nico leaned back against the wall and exhaled slowly, his hand pressing against his shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers, dripping onto the concrete floor.
"Let me see it," Mara said, the panic suddenly replaced by an icy survival instinct.
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing. You're bleeding all over the floor."
"I've had worse."
"That doesn't mean you should ignore it." She stepped closer. "Sit down."
"I don't need…"
"Sit. Down."