Page 106 of Beneath the Shadows

The fury inside me snaps like a taut wire. My tone is icy, lethal. “You’re too late. We were married tonight.”

Draco explodes. “You went behind my back?” His rage is tangible with the promise of violence in every syllable. “A rushed farce of a wedding doesn’t change anything, Antonio. It can just as easily go away.”

“Alessia’s mine,” I growl. “You won’t come anywhere near her.”

Draco’s fury seethes. "You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life, Antonio."

The call disconnects.

A message comes through almost immediately.

Draco:I’m coming for her. Tell Alessia to be ready.

My fingers curl around the phone, knuckles white as I read his threat. The darkness inside me stirs, hungry, ready to come out to play. I’ll burn this world to the ground before I let him take her.

My response is swift, precise.

Me:If you try, you’ll regret it for the rest of your short, miserable life.

I hit send, imagining Draco’s reaction. He believes he has the upper hand. Thinks he can play me like he did Valentino. He has no idea what he’s unleashed.

If Draco Moretti wants a war, that’s exactly what he’ll get.

Antonio

“Double the number of men,” I bark the order into the phone. “And make sure they remain out of sight.”

“Will do,” Dante replies, his voice steady on the other end.

“I also want men watching the Moretti Estate. If Draco makes a move, I need to know about it. I won’t let anything—” My sentence dies in my throat as Alessia steps into the kitchen. Pink shorts hug her toned legs, and a tiny black tank top leaves little to the imagination. Her dark hair is a mess of waves, and her hazel eyes blaze with fury.

“My wife’s awake. I have to go.” I disconnect the call and slide my phone into my pocket, trying to gauge how much she overheard.

Alessia crosses her arms over her chest, her gaze cutting through me like a blade. Fury radiates off her in waves.

I force a smile, attempting to soften the tension. “What can I make you for breakfast?”

“I can cook for myself.”

“I’m aware. But this is our honeymoon. Let me?—”

“I don’t give a damn aboutyourhoneymoon,” she snaps. “And I don’t need you pretending like this is normal. It’s not.”

I move to the fridge, opening it to scan what’s inside. I asked Cecilia to order some staples, but I have no clue what she got. “We’ll need some groceries, but I can make you an omelet or French toast. What do you prefer?”

“Why are you doing this?” she demands, her voice still harsh but with an edge of suspicion.

“Because you deserve to be treated well, Alessia.”

“I don’t want to play house with you. I need my life back.”

I take a slow breath, trying to steady the conversation before it spirals. “I’m not pretending. I just want you to feel comfortable here.”

Her eyes narrow further. “Comfortable? With guards hovering just out of sight? I’m not blind, Antonio. You say I’m not a prisoner, but I know they’re watching me. So yeah, I sure as hell feel like one.”

I let the words hang in the air, not rushing to defend myself. She’s angry—rightfully so. No amount of soothing will make her see this differently right now. “You’re not a prisoner. You’re free to come and go whenever you want.”

“Free?” She lets out a harsh laugh. “You drugged me and forced me to marry you. And you want me to believe I’m free?”

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