She hands Lacey her bouquet before turning to me and placing her hands in mine.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today on this beautiful day to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” the priest begins as I lace our fingers together, squeezing her hands slightly as I swallow the lump in my throat.
“If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace,” the priest continues.
I tear my eyes away from Reina and glance around the room, daring anyone to fuck with me, but all I see are smiling faces. A room full of people near and dear to both me and Reina, people who respect the both of us, all of whom are part of our new family.
I’d remember their faces and this moment too.
And the one that came next.
The door opens, sunlight streams from behind the figure shuffling through the door, blinding the view of the man’s face. When the door finally closes behind him I see Ronan clear as day, gagged with duct tape, arms extended out to his sides mimicking Jesus on the cross and enough explosives strapped to his chest to blow up an entire neighborhood.
Frozen in place, his eyes meet mine and I watch the tears spill down his cheeks.
That was the final moment engrained in my memory.
The moment my eyes met the man the enemy sent to deliver us our fate.
My life and love might still go on.
In your heart, in your mind, I’ll stay with you for all of time.
BOOM.
Chapter Forty
My eyes flutter open, fighting for focus through a thick cloud of smoke and dust, reminding me why I was face down against the concrete. Lifting my cheek from the ground, I open my mouth to call for Anthony but it feels as if there is something in my throat, suffocating me. I swallow hard, trying to scream but only managed to whisper. I close my eyes, swallow again and try one more time. This time, I push myself up off the ground and allow my eyes to roam over the destruction surrounding me. Bile rises in my throat as I see the orange and amber glow of flames through the thick fog of smoke.
“Anthony,” I scream, hysteria coursing through me as I twist my head from side to side hoping to spot my husband. Kneeling, I groan in pain, my stomach aches with every slight movement I make. I stay hunched over, clutching my ribs that are probably broken from the impact of being tossed from the truck. Coughing, I cover my mouth and slowly stand on my bare feet.
My shoes are gone.
“Anthony,” I cry frantically, walking through the fog over the glass and debris. In the distance I can hear the faint cries of others pleading for help but none of them match the voice I’m searching for, desperate to hear.
“Oh God,” I whimper, climbing over the truck. “Anthony!”
“Reese’s,” he mumbles.
“Yes, baby it’s me. Where are you?” I ask, squinting as I ignore the burn of my eyes and try to locate him. “Keep talking so I can follow your voice.”
“I’m over here,” he says, sounding more coherent than before. “Shit,” he groans. “My arm is fucked.”
I follow the sound of his voice, finding him leaning against a piece of what I think is our truck, one arm crossed over his chest, clutching his bicep that is pouring blood. I run to him, crunching glass beneath my feet. I’m reminded of the pain in my stomach when I drop to my knees in front of him. Wincing in pain I grab a hold of his face and touch my lips to his.
“Thank God,” I cry, leaning my forehead against his as he snakes his good arm around my waist.
“Are you okay?”
“I think I may have a broken rib or two but I’m okay,” I assure him, leaning back to take a look at his arm and stare at the offensive piece of metal piercing his bicep. He grunts through his teeth, forcing my focus back to his face.
“It’s nothing,” he grumbles.
It’s not nothing, but glancing over my shoulder, following the sounds of the people inside the demolished clubhouse, I know it’s the lesser of the injuries we’re about to face. There’s death waiting on the other side of the cloud of smoke and I pray it’s not my sister.
“Adrianna,” Anthony shouts, dragging my focus back to him. “Listen, I need you to pull this piece of metal out of my arm.”
His blue eyes are dead serious as mine widen, shifting to the dagger.
“If I take that out of your arm you will bleed out.”
“If you don’t then I’m useless and there are over two dozen people trapped in those flames that need us,” he protests through gritted teeth. “Pull the metal out of my arm, Reese’s.”
My hands trembled as they move toward his arm.
“Do it,” he shouts.
I shake my head, glancing around then back at him and the red tie that hangs loosely around his neck covered in ash.
“Do it!” he repeats.
I loosen the knot, pulling the tie from his neck before I stand and close my eyes. Forcing myself to stay calm I close my hands over the metal.
“On three,” I say. “One. Two.”