The Red Queen by Nikita Slater

Author:Nikita Slater [Slater, Nikita]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781990355387
Publisher: Nikita Slater Writing Services Ltd.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Her wedding day.

How was it possible that Desi had reached this point in her life? She was thirty-five and hadn’t thought she would ever walk down the aisle. Hadn’t wanted to. Until now. Every passing day with Giovanni, in his household, with Donada, Vitto, and the others had convinced her that she could hope for something more. A different life.

She sighed at herself and her maudlin thoughts and reached for a tissue, pressing it beneath her eyes. Now she would have to repair her makeup.

Sliding onto her vanity chair, Desi leaned into the mirror and used the eyeliner brush to fix the smudging. She’d been teary eyed more than usual. It was a strange sensation that Donada encouraged her to embrace. Tears were normal and Desi wanted to embrace normalcy.

Though she found idleness boring, she didn’t want to embrace death and destruction again. When Giovanni finally allowed her to work with him, she would ask him for a desk job.

She snorted at herself. A desk job… like a cop recovering from an injury. Or an ex-cartel enforcer recovering from a lifetime of PTSD.

She froze.

Where had that thought come from? She wasn’t stupid. She knew PTSD existed, but she’d never thought to apply it to herself. It was a condition caused by experiencing traumatic and life-threatening events, which, of course, Desi had. Repeatedly.

She stared at herself, into her brown eyes, trying to read an emotion. Any emotion. They still looked dead to her. Like the soul had been sucked out of her long ago, leaving a grim reaper in its place. Someone who stole souls because hers had been taken.

“Jesus, such thoughts on my wedding day.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the imagery before she committed herself to a man who would see right through her every thought. He would know there was something wrong. He always seemed to know because he’d taken the time to get to know her.

“I can do this,” she whispered.

She opened her eyes in time to save herself from a bullet to the head. She moved just as Antonio pulled the trigger, flinging herself away from the vanity and tumbling to the floor in a blur of white skirt and long, dark hair. The gun had a silencer, but the mirror shattered as the bullet struck it dead center.

Vitto rushed into the room, his gun drawn, but he was too late.

Desi screamed his name as Antonio’s second bullet hit the other man, flinging him into the hallway.

Antonio turned back to her, maniacal rage bright in his eyes.

“Your turn,” he snarled.

She glared up at him, her thoughts racing, then landing on Giovanni. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to be with her lover. She had to get Antonio talking, get him to come closer so she could attack. Antonio only seemed to respond to one thing, anger. If she tried to plead with him, he’d shoot her. If she got him angry, he might get sloppy.

“How dare you do this to your father!” she shouted at him, pushing herself up onto her hands.

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