The cold water drenched my wedding dress instantly, the heavy silk dragging against my legs.

“The garage,” Matteo said, pulling me toward the low stone outbuilding.

A searchlight from the main tower swept across the gravel path, barely missing us.

“They’ve turned the alarms on,” I said, my teeth chattering from the cold and the terror.

“Keep moving,” Matteo muttered.

We reached the side door of the garage.

He kicked it open, his gun raised.

Inside, three black sedans sat in the shadows.

He headed for the silver Alfa Romeo in the corner.

“Get in,” he ordered, throwing open the passenger door.

I scrambled inside, my wet dress tangling around my ankles.

The smell of leather and gasoline filled the tight space.

Matteo jumped into the driver’s seat and jammed the key into the ignition.

The engine roared to life, a loud, powerful sound that echoed off the concrete walls.

Suddenly, the main garage doors began to slide downward, the automatic mechanism triggered from the security booth.

“Matteo!” I screamed.

He slammed the car into reverse.

The tires shrieked against the concrete, throwing us backward.