Kidnapping the Assassin: The Mafia Don’s Fatal Mistake

The Untouchable Vow

Chapter  6

[Cassian]

I woke up to the smell of black coffee and the clicking of a keyboard.

Pain flared in my shoulder the moment I opened my eyes, a sharp, burning reminder of last night's betrayal. I groaned, shifting on the hard medical cot.

The clicking stopped.

"You slept for nine hours. I was starting to think I botched the stitches."

I turned my head. Elara was sitting at the metal desk across the room, illuminated by the glow of three massive computer monitors. She had washed the concrete dust out of her hair, and she was wearing one of my spare black tactical shirts. It was entirely too big for her, slipping off one shoulder to reveal the smooth, pale skin of her collarbone.

She looked effortlessly beautiful. She looked lethal. I felt a dangerous pull in my chest that had absolutely nothing to do with my gunshot wound.

I sat up, gritting my teeth against the pain. "What's the situation?"

"Bad," Elara said, swiveling the chair around to face me. "While you were sleeping, I tapped into the syndicate's encrypted comms."

She tapped a key, and a video feed popped up on the largest monitor. It was a news broadcast, but the ticker at the bottom wasn't meant for civilians. It was an underworld feed.

A photo of my ruined estate filled the screen.

"Your uncle Marco moves fast," Elara stated, her voice clinically detached. "He called a meeting of the Commission at dawn. He told the Five Families that the Viper infiltrated your estate, murdered you, and blew the place up to cover her tracks."

Fury, cold and absolute, iced over my veins. Marco wasn't just stealing my throne. He was using my father's death, and my supposed death, to consolidate absolute power.

"Because you're 'dead'," she continued, "Marco has invoked the Rite of Succession. He's being sworn in as the new Don of the Rossi Syndicate tonight at the underground cathedral."

I swung my legs off the table, my mind racing through a hundred different tactical scenarios. If I walked into that cathedral tonight and declared Marco a traitor, his men would just shoot me on sight. He controlled the Capos now. He controlled the money.

If I walked in with Elara, they would kill us both, claiming they were avenging my father.

"I need to get into that cathedral tonight," I said, pacing the concrete floor. "But Marco will have the entire building locked down. It’s sacred ground. The High Table will be there. Even if I prove he's the traitor, they’ll execute you just for being the Viper."

Elara leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. "I don't care about the High Table, Cassian. I care about the hitmen your uncle likely sent to my sister's hospital the second he assumed power."

She was right. The moment Marco realized I was gone, he would have assumed control of all my assets including the private security team watching Elara's sister in Geneva.

"I won't let them touch her," I said, stopping in front of her.

"How?" she challenged, her eyes flashing with a sudden, desperate anger. "You don't have an army anymore. You don't have a throne. If we walk into that cathedral, we are dead meat. They won't even let you speak!"

"There's a loophole," I murmured, a reckless, insane plan forming in the back of my mind.

I stared down at her. At the fierce, unyielding fire in her eyes. She was a weapon. But I needed her to be a shield.

"The Commission operates on ancient, unbreakable laws," I said slowly, stepping closer until my knees brushed hers. "Law number four of the High Table. No blood may be spilled in the presence of a Don's wife on the day of her swearing-in. It's considered an act of war against the Gods."

Elara froze. The anger in her eyes was instantly replaced by a sharp, calculating confusion.

"What are you talking about?" she asked warily.

I placed my hands on the arms of her chair, trapping her, leaning down until we were eye-to-eye.

"If I walk in there as a resurrected Don, Marco shoots me," I explained, my voice a low, intense rumble. "If I walk in there with an assassin, they execute you. But if I walk through those cathedral doors holding the hand of my newly wedded wife... no one can touch us. Not Marco. Not the Commission. Not the High Table."

Elara stopped breathing. She stared at me, processing the sheer audacity of my words.

"You want me... to marry you," she whispered, as if the words themselves were toxic.

"I want you to put a ring on your finger, put on a white dress, and walk into a room full of monsters by my side," I corrected, my gaze dropping to her soft, parted lips. "I want you to be the Donna of the Rossi Syndicate."

"It's a suicide mission," she breathed, though she didn't pull away.

"It's the only way to get my empire back, and it's the only way to give you the resources to protect Lily," I said. I reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "A fake marriage, Elara. Just until we burn Marco to the ground."

She looked up at me. The silence stretched between us, thick with tension, danger, and an undeniable, terrifying heat.

"Fine," Elara finally whispered, her eyes turning as cold and sharp as shattered glass. "I'll be your wife, Rossi. But if you betray me, I'll carve your heart out on our honeymoon."

I smiled. A true, dangerous smile.

"I look forward to it, darling."