"I have to take this," he said, but his eyes lingered on my face. "We'll continue this conversation later."
"Will we?" I challenged. "Or will you pretend this never happened, too?"
Instead of answering, he lifted the phone to his ear. "What is it?"
His expression darkened as he listened to whoever was on the other end. "How close?" A pause. "How long do we have? Fine. Implement Protocol Seven immediately."
He ended the call, his jaw set in grim lines.
"What's Protocol Seven?" I asked.
"Something you don't need to worry about." But the lie was transparent—whatever Protocol Seven was, it definitely concerned me.
"You should get some rest," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Tomorrow will be… eventful."
The way he said it sent a chill down my spine. "What happens tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, we find out if my security measures are sufficient." He moved toward the door, then paused. "Sophie?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever happens, stay in your room until I come for you. Promise me."
The gravity in his voice made my chest tight. "And if you don't come?"
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the mask slipped entirely. "I'll come."
After he left, I made my way back to my room, hyperaware of the increased activity throughout the house. Guards moved with purpose through the corridors. I could hear vehicles starting up outside, the crackle of radio communications.
As I reached my door, I noticed something that made my blood run cold. A slip of paper on the floor, as if it had been slid underneath while I was at dinner.
With trembling fingers, I unfolded it:
Antonio's men are coming tomorrow. Trust no one. They have someone on the inside.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I read the words again. Someone in this house was trying to warn me—but who? And more importantly, if Antonio's men were coming and there was a traitor among Vittorio's people, how much time did I have?
I locked my door and moved to the window, scanning the darkened grounds with new understanding. Those weren't just additional security measures—they were preparations for war. And somehow, I was at the center of it.
I retrieved the knives from my dress, weighing them in my hands. The steel was cold, solid, reassuring. Tomorrow would bring violence—I could feel it in the charged air, see it in the grim preparations happening all around me.
But tonight, I had weapons. I had a warning. And I had the memory of something real flickering in Vittorio's eyes when he'd promised to come for me.
Whatever tomorrow brought, I wouldn't face it helpless. Antonio wanted me back, and apparently, he was willing to wage war to get me. But he'd forgotten something crucial—I was no longer the same woman who'd run from him in terror.
I was Sophie Winters, and I'd learned to fight back.
As I prepared for what might be my last night in this gilded cage, one thought burned bright in my mind: if Antonio thought I'd go quietly, he was about to learn just how wrong he could be.
The storm wasn't coming tomorrow.
It was already here. And I intended to survive it.
CHAPTER 5
Vittorio
Isat in my office, the blue glow of multiple monitors casting shadows across my face. The surveillance footage from Sophie's room played on loop. Six weeks of footage—methodically reviewed, cataloged, analyzed. Something had been nagging at me since yesterday's dinner. I'd been so certain of my control, my impenetrable security system. But now…
