Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother

Eloise's POV

Alphonse.

He didn't have a gun. He held a knife-a jagged, serrated combat knife.

Holden screamed and aimed for his brother's head.

Alphonse moved with breathtaking fluidity, as if the air around him had blurred. He sidestepped the shot, closed the distance in a flash, and drove his knee brutally into Holden's gut.

Holden doubled over, gagging. The gun clattered onto the concrete.

Alphonse didn't even look at him. His eyes were locked on me.

He saw the needle, the IV tubing, and the bags of blood.

The sound that ripped from his throat wasn't human. It was a roar-a primal vibration that rattled the very walls.

"Don't touch me!" Jaidyn shrieked, backing into the corner. "I'm sick! I'm a patient!"

Alphonse ignored her. He was at my side in a heartbeat.

His usually steady, calloused hands were trembling slightly as he ripped the medical tape from my arm and gently slid the needle out. He pressed his thumb firmly against the puncture wound to stop the bleeding.

"Eloise," he said, his voice ragged. "Look at me."

I forced my heavy eyelids open. "You came."

"I told you," he said, cleanly slicing through the zip ties with his combat knife in one swift motion. "I would burn the world down."

As I slumped forward, he caught me, pulling me tight against his broad chest. He smelled like gunpowder and rain.

"He drained my blood," I mumbled against his shirt. "For her."

Alphonse glanced back over his shoulder.

Holden was writhing on the floor, gasping for air. Jaidyn was trying to sneak toward the exit.

"Nobody leaves," Alphonse declared.

He scooped me up, holding me as effortlessly as if I weighed nothing. He walked over to Holden and delivered a savage kick to his ribs, hitting him hard enough to crack bone.

"You want to play doctor, little brother?" Alphonse asked, his tone terrifyingly calm. "Good. Because you're going to need one very soon."

He turned to Jaidyn. She froze in her tracks.

"And you," Alphonse said, his gaze sweeping over her flushed, healthy face. "You don't look like a dying woman. Your color is remarkably good. We'll have to find a way to fix that."

He carried me out of the basement, up into the fresh air and sunlight.

"Close your eyes, baby," he whispered into my hair. "The violence is just beginning."

I closed my eyes. For the first time in three days, I felt completely safe.