Page 45 of Dragon Touched
He wouldn’t have cared, though, would he? He’s always been a chauvinistic browbeater.
All her life, hadn’t he told her women and children were to be seen and not heard?
The priest repeated Bible verses and droned on about the sanctity of marriage, but Sacha’s thoughts drifted to Fin and his firm—yet gentle—touch. Again, she prayed Margaret had gotten him to the hospital in time.
Lorenzo’s sharp fingernails dug into her waist and pulled her back to the present.
He and the priest looked at her like they waited for a response.
“I’m sorry.” She licked her lips. “What was the question?”
The man of God rolled his blue eyes. “Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”
It seemed like the world held its breath. In the open chapel, the shift of her father’s feet from behind, and a cough from one of the goons sitting in the pews a few feet away, seemed too loud.
“Sacha.” Vito’s voice was low and menacing. “Do I need to send someone to finish the job from this morning?”
“No, Pops.” She turned to Lorenzo and forced herself to focus on his face. Unable to meet his eyes, she stared at a large, pus-filled zit wedged into the fold between his nose and cheek. “I, uhm—”
Wham!The doors of the chapel burst open and spilled golden, radiant light into every dark corner.
“She doesnot.” Fin’s voice rang through the large, cathedral-style room.
Sacha gasped. “No.”
Hope and happiness bloomed in her heart, but a worse thought overrode the pleasure at seeing him alive and unhurt. Horror filled her mind. Pops and his men would waste no time in taking him down.
“Oh, please no.”
She tried to run to him, but Lorenzo gripped her arm and pulled her body into his, as if to use her as a shield.
Fin strode through the aisle, and his eyes were the color of dark blood. His attention focused straight ahead, gaze locking onto hers.
She was torn between relief and agony. If something happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. “Don’t do this, Fin.” A fist clenched, and she shook her head. “It’s not worth it—I’mnot worth it.”
The bodyguards seemed taken aback for two seconds, and then the sounds of guns sliding from holsters reverberated in the chamber.
Sacha’s knees trembled.
With hands outstretched, Fin’s dark gray robe dangled a few inches from his arms. A jagged hole and blood stained the shoulder, but his face reflected no pain with the movement.
White light shot from his palms, and all the men in the pews crashed to the floor, unconscious or dead.
Sacha wasn’t sure which, and she didn’t care.
“Not another step closer.” Lorenzo wrapped his fat fingers around Sacha’s neck.
Lips compressed, Fin halted ten feet away with a hand pointed straight at Lorenzo’s forehead.
Vito’s stare moved from Lorenzo, to Sacha, to Fin, and then back again.
Laughter, high and unstable, escaped her father’s lips. “This is so fitting, isn’t it, boy?” He shook his head with amusement. “It’s like the past is repeating itself.”
“What are you talking about, Pops?” Sacha searched Fin’s eyes.
He cast his gaze to the side, toward Vito, and sneered.
Her father laughed again. “Ah, I see he didn’t tell you.” He pointed to the blond man. “That freak’s father was your mother’s lover. I caught them in the act six years ago.”
