Page 6 of Stolen Bride

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A bride being dragged down the stairs by a man in black, armed men following behind, screaming and gunfire echoing from inside the church.

Someone’s probably calling 911 right now.

Good.

Maybe the police will stop this before?—

A car door opens and I’m shoved inside so hard I fall across the leather seat, my wedding dress tangling around my legs.

Leo slides in beside me before I can scramble back out, his hand still locked around my wrist, and the door slams shut.

The driver, another man in black whose face I can’t see, hits the gas and we lurch forward with enough force to throw me back against the seat.

I scramble to sit up, to turn back and look through the rear windshield.

My father bursts through the cathedral doors, his gray hair glinting in the sunlight.

His face is twisted with rage and horror, his gun raised but useless now that we’re moving.

He’s shouting something I can’t hear through the glass.

The car speeds around a corner and St. Patrick’s Cathedral disappears from view, taking my father and Tony and my mother and my entire life with it.

I turn to face Leo Santoro, who’s sitting beside me looking serene despite the visible handprint on his cheek and having justcommitted what amounts to an act of war against the Brennan family.

He’s watching me with those dark, intense eyes, waiting to see what I’ll do next.

Terror makes my hands shake and my heart race, and my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

I’ve been kidnapped on my wedding day by a man who clearly wants revenge against my father.

And yet, beneath it all, something like courage stirs.

Emma Brennan doesn’t give up.

Emma Brennan doesn’t break.

And Leo Santoro is about to learn that the hard way.

“You just made the biggest mistake of your life,” I tell him, my voice shaking but still defiant. “My father is going to kill you for this. He’s going to hunt you down and make you suffer before he puts a bullet in your head.”

Leo’s expression doesn’t change.

If anything, he looks almost amused by my threat.

“He’s welcome to try,” he says calmly. Then he releases my wrist and settles back against the seat like we’re on a pleasant drive through the city instead of fleeing a kidnapping scene. “But in the meantime, my dear, you’re mine.”

The words echo in my mind.You’re mine.

I’m not his.

I’m not anyone’s.

I’m Emma Brennan, and I’m going to find a way out of this nightmare even if I have to tear this car apart with my bare hands to do it.

I just need to figure out how.

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