Chapter 6 - The Bullet and the Silk
The impact drove Luca back half a step, his heavy boots squeaking against the polished marble floor.
Julian laughed—a high, manic sound of triumph. "It's over!"
But the laugh died in his throat.
Luca didn't fall. He didn't bleed.
He stood straight up, brushed a faint speck of white powder from his Vicuña vest where the bullet had flattened, and looked down at his chest.
The Liquid-Armour STF lining had hardened instantly upon impact, absorbing the bullet's kinetic energy and flattening the lead projectile like a pancake against the Kevlar weave. The bullet clattered harmlessly onto the marble floor.
Julian’s eyes went wide with pure terror. "How... how are you alive?!"
"Bespoke tailoring, Julian," Luca said coldly.
Before Julian could pull the trigger a second time, Luca moved with terrifying speed. He grabbed Julian’s wrist, twisted it inward until the bone snapped with a sickening CRACK, and disarmed him in a single fluid motion.
Julian dropped to his knees, screaming in pain.
Luca picked up the flattened bullet from the floor, holding it between his fingers.
" Carmine!" Luca yelled down the aisle to Don Carmine Falcone. "Your family was set up by this traitor! Julian forged the wire transfer notes to make it look like you put the tracker in my wedding suit!"
Don Carmine lowered his weapon, staring at the flattened bullet on the floor, then at Julian groveling on the altar steps. "Julian... you tried to start a war between our houses?"
"He wanted us to wipe each other out," Luca revealed, throwing the flattened lead piece onto Julian’s lap. "So his offshore partners could buy up our port assets for pennies."
Twenty Moretti bodyguards flooded through the side doors of the cathedral, rounding up Julian’s remaining loyalists before a single other shot could be fired.
The cathedral fell into a tense, breathless silence.
Luca turned toward the choir loft, looking directly up at where I stood near the dark wooden railing.
In front of five hundred mobsters, politicians, and millionaires, Luca Moretti took off his garter glove, raised his hand, and pointed straight at me.
"Miss Ward," his voice thundered across the stone arches. "Come down."
My heart did a violent flip inside my chest.
I walked down the winding stone staircase of the choir loft, stepping out onto the red carpet at the base of the altar. Every eye in the room turned to follow me—the exhausted woman in a simple black silk dress who had just saved the master of the city.
I reached the altar steps, looking up at Luca.
He walked down to meet me. He didn't look at his empire, his guards, or the enemies bowing before him. He looked only at me.
"The suit held," I whispered, a faint smile breaking through my exhaustion.
"It held," Luca agreed softly.
He reached out, taking my hand in front of the entire underworld assembly.
"The wedding is canceled," Luca announced to the room, his voice iron and final. "But the alliance stands. Under new management."
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He looked back down at me, his dark eyes brimming with a heat that made the cold cathedral feel like summer.
"Now, Clara Ward... let's go collect your five hundred thousand dollars."
