"No one here but an old woman. The signorina left with Vittorio this morning."
"Liar."
I pressed my hand against my mouth to stifle a gasp as something shattered. Moving silently, I crept back to the hidden door and opened it just enough to peer through the crack.
Three masked men stood in my bedroom. Lila faced them, a kitchen knife clutched in her hand. Despite her small stature, she looked fearless, like a lioness protecting her cub.
"Leave now," she commanded, "before the guards come."
The lead intruder laughed. "The guards are dead or busy. Carbone says it's time to cleanse the bloodline. Make Ricci remember his place in the old order."
Carbone. The name ignited a flash of understanding. This was retaliation for the meeting—a desperate attempt to hurt Vittorio where it would wound him most deeply.
Through me. Through our child.
Lila must have reached the same conclusion. She lunged forward with surprising speed, slashing at the nearest attacker. The knife connected, drawing a line of red across his forearm. He howled in pain, staggering backward.
"Run, Sophie!" she screamed, knowing I must be listening. "Run!"
The leader pulled a gun from his waistband, but Lila was already moving, throwing herself at him with the kitchen knife raised high. The blade sank into his shoulder as they collided, sending both tumbling to the floor.
The third man circled around, heading for the service door—heading for me.
I backed away, heart thundering in my ears. My hand brushed against a decorative vase on a hall table. Without hesitation, I grabbed it and waited.
As the door swung open, I brought the vase down with all my strength. It shattered against his skull, sending him stumbling to his knees. I didn't wait to see if he'd get up. I ran.
The service corridor twisted through the mansion's heart, designed to keep staff invisible to the family and guests. I navigated the turns, heading for the back staircase that would lead to the kitchen and, beyond that, the garage.
Behind me, a gunshot echoed through the mansion, followed by a woman's cry of pain.
Lila.
I froze, my body refusing to move forward while she suffered. The protective instinct that had been growing inside me since learning ofmy pregnancy suddenly shifted, encompassing not just my unborn child but the woman who had shown me nothing but kindness.
I couldn't leave her.
My hand slipped to the small of my back, where I'd kept one of the steak knives hidden in a makeshift sheath sewn into my clothes. I'd been carrying it for weeks, ever since the first threat from Antonio. The weight of it was familiar in my palm as I pulled it free.
I turned back, moving silently through the corridor toward my bedroom. At the hidden door, I paused, listening. Male voices argued in rapid Italian. Through the crack, I saw Lila lying on the marble floor, blood pooling beneath her. Her chest still rose and fell, but her face had gone ashen.
Rage flooded through me—hot, clarifying rage that burned away fear and hesitation. These men had invaded my home. They had hurt someone I cared about. They threatened my child.
I wouldn't run. Not anymore.
The door to the bedroom stood open, and one of the men left to search elsewhere. The leader knelt beside Lila, pressing a gun to her temple as he demanded to know where I was hiding.
I pushed the hidden door open with deliberate slowness, making it creak. As he turned toward the sound, I stepped into view, knife held low at my side.
"I'm right here," I said, my voice steady despite the terror clawing at my throat. "Let her go."
He rose, blood staining his shirt where Lila had stabbed him. "Carbone wants you alive," he said, training his gun on me. "But he didn't say what condition you needed to be in."
"Did he tell you I was dangerous?" I asked, taking a step forward.
He laughed. "You? The pretty little redhead? "Should've stayed with the other brother. Now you die for corrupting the family."
I thought of everything I'd endured—Antonio's betrayal, Vittorio's captivity, Falco's torture. Each had forged me, hardened me. I was no longer the woman who had run terrified through rainy streets. I was a survivor. A mother protecting her child.
