Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,91

the ground, I know he’s dead. I’m screaming as more shots are fired. One rips past my head, and I’m being shoved by the crowd. My heart is shattering as I try to fight my way back to Shay. A woman grabs my arm, and I’m being dragged out a side door and into a corridor.

“You need to run.” She releases me as she takes her own advice. I’m half running and trip several times over my feet. Clinging to a wall, I cringe as another shot is fired. The wall is cold under my palms, but I’m dragged away again—only this time by a man.

I break free of his grasp. I can’t see where I’m going through the tears that pour down my face. My legs wobble, and I stumble out of the crowd and into a room. I can’t breathe as I slam the door and stare at it.

The air is too thin. I can’t breathe. It’s like a swollen storm that’s all caught up inside me—rose-red blossoms on my once-white wedding dress. My fingers play along the destructive substance as I drag air painfully into my lungs. The dress had been designed just for me. All of the trim was done in lace, each stitch done by hand. It was truly a masterpiece that was smashed to pieces.

The room tilts, and I dig my hands deeper into the soft fabric to keep myself on a small, navy stool. I focus on the white piano in front of me, the cover open, the white stool at an angle, like it’s waiting to be used.

My vision blurs, and I close my eyes as I drag another breath in. It hitches on a sob that I can’t hold in any longer.

It’s their screams and panic that still pierces my mind. Hundreds of people were fighting to get over each other, love flew out the window, protection didn’t exist at that moment, as each person fought for their own safety.

Yet, all the while, he had stood at the altar staring at me, knowing who was behind this.

It’s the look of absolute betrayal in Shay’s eyes that I will never forget.

Bending my head, I seal my lips together so the scream doesn’t spill from me. He hadn’t run like everyone else. He hadn’t dived to the ground. Instead, he had stood before me in his dark suit looking like a King that had just climbed off his horse, only to find out that there was nothing at all here for him to rule.

Footsteps pound along the wooden corridor, and I tuck my head deeper into my chest. Keep running, check other rooms. I’m not here.

Brown eyes widening before narrowing flood my memory as guns released countless rounds of ammunition. Hysteria reached its peak as everyone scrambled across church benches. Large golden candle holders collided with marble stone, the impact rattling the ground.

Another sob has me slipping from the stool, and my hands touch the dark wooden floor. My polished nails drag along it as my mind grows more frantic. I replay the pain in Shay’s eyes as I realize he is no longer a God with a shield around him. No. He became a man, made of flesh and bones. The moment he hit the ground, I knew the game was over.

My nails sink a little deeper until they bend and threaten to snap.

Right now, as I sob on the floor, the thought that races through my mind is, what have you done, Noel?

What have I done?

I should have found a way to tell him that I was happy. He had sworn on mom's grave, and I knew that meant that no matter what, he would keep to his word. I just didn’t think he would open fire at the wedding.

More pain rips through me. I shouldn’t have left Shay’s body down there. Tears blur my vision, and panic builds inside of me until I’m ready to get sick.

The door bangs, and fear tightens its bony hands around my throat. They are going to kill me. This is my fault. I stand up, my legs barely keeping me upright.

More tears pour down my face, and I know I don’t want to die. I can’t hold back the sobs that steal the air from me. The doors rattle loudly before they smash in, and it’s Noel.

“Emma.” He’s still holding the gun. Racing towards me. He looks all wrong holding the gun. This isn’t my brother. I never saw him hold a gun, never