Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 212

Dante's POV

"Dante, please!" Gianna's voice cracked behind me. "Don't..."

"He's my son, Dante!"

Roberto's voice cut through the garden. I turned my head, the gun staying level.

Roberto charged toward us, his shoes pounding against the stone path. Behind him, Cesare's hand went to his weapon.

"You shot my fucking son!" Roberto's face went purple, veins bulging at his temples. "Have you lost your goddamn mind?!"

My hand stilled on the trigger.

His son.

I looked down at Matteo, blood seeping between his fingers, then back to Roberto. The jaw, the eyes, the same shape.

"I didn't know." The words ground out between my teeth.

"That's not a fucking excuse!" Roberto's hands flew up. "So you just shoot first and ask questions later?!"

My chest heaved, the gun refusing to shake.

"He tried to forcefully kiss my wife." Each word came out unforgiving. "What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Talk!" Roberto threw his arms wide, his voice echoing across the garden. "Use your fucking words before you use your gun!"

My finger pressed closer to the trigger, hovering there, not pulling, not yet.

"Dante." Cesare's voice came low behind me, edged with warning. "Put it down."

"Dante, please." Gianna moved forward, her hand stretching toward me, trembling. Her eyes locked on mine, wide and wet, glistening with unshed tears.

I stared back, my breath coming harder. She wasn't afraid for herself.

She was afraid for him.

My grip tightened, knuckles going white around the handle.

But her lips were moving, no sound escaping, just the shape of one word forming again and again.

I swung the gun back to Matteo's head, the barrel inches from his skull.

Metal clicked behind me, around me, the sound of safeties releasing.

I glanced over my shoulder. Roberto had a pistol aimed at my skull, his hand rock steady.

Cesare stood two feet back, his weapon pointed at Roberto's chest, his stance wide and grounded. More men on both sides, hands on holsters, fingers on triggers, the air thick with the promise of violence.

One squeeze, and this garden would run red, bodies dropping, screams filling the night.

Matteo deserved it, deserved the bullet, deserved to bleed out on this grass for touching her, for leaning in, for trying to take what was mine.

But Roberto had the location, the date, the warehouse, Lorenzo Giovanni's head on a fucking platter.

And I'd just put a bullet in his son.

The deal was hanging by a thread, fraying with every second that passed.

I turned back to Gianna. Her hands were clasped together, pressed against her chest, shaking like leaves in a storm.

Tears streaked down her cheeks, catching the lantern light. Her mouth formed that word again, silent and desperate.

My breath came out slow, controlled.

"I did." Roberto's face went blank, emotionless. "The deal is off. I'm not working with a man who almost killed my son, who puts bullets in people at parties. You want Lorenzo Giovanni so bad? Well, guess what, the deal is off. How's that for your revenge plan?"

Anger surged up my throat, burning. I lunged forward, my hands reaching. "You son of a..."

"Dante." Cesare's hand clamped on my arm, his fingers digging in. "Not now."

I yanked away, pulling free with force. I glared at Roberto, my breathing harsh. "You're making a mistake."

"No." Roberto's voice went flat, dead. "You made the mistake."

I stepped closer, closing the distance between us. "If that was the case, I would've finished him off, would've put another bullet in his head."

My hand gestured toward Matteo, still lying on the ground. "I only left him alive because of that deal, because of what you promised me. Since it's off, you owe me. And I'll make sure to collect, one way or another."

Roberto's lips pressed into a line, his jaw muscles working. His head turned away, dismissing me. "Whatever."

His men moved in around Matteo, their bodies forming a protective circle. They hooked their arms under him, lifting him with grunts of effort.

He groaned, his head lolling back, eyes rolling. Blood dripped onto the grass beneath them, leaving a dark trail. They carried him toward the house, his feet dragging.

I turned, scanning the crowd until I found Gianna. I reached out and grabbed her elbow, my fingers wrapping tight. "We're leaving."

"Dante..."

"Now."

I pulled her forward, through the crowd that parted like water.

People scattered, stared, whispered behind their hands, their eyes wide with fear and fascination.

Cesare's footsteps followed close behind, his presence reassuring.