"That's your mistake," I said.
When he moved toward me, I didn't hesitate. I lunged forward, ducking under his outstretched arm. The knife in my hand found the soft spot beneath his ribs that Vittorio had once shown me during a quiet moment of instruction.
"Here," he'd said, pressing his finger to that vulnerable place. "If you ever need to kill a man, this is where you aim."
The blade sank deep. The man's eyes widened in shock as I twisted the knife, just as Vittorio had taught me. He dropped his gun, hands clutching uselessly at the wound as he collapsed.
Blood coated my hands as I pulled the knife free. I felt nothing—no horror, no disgust, only cold determination as I knelt beside Lila.
"Help is coming," I told her, pressing my hand against the wound in her side. "Stay with me."
Her eyes fluttered open. "Sophie… you should have run."
"I'm done running," I said.
Sirens wailed in the distance—Vittorio's security team responding at last. The third attacker appeared in the doorway, gun raised. Before he could fire, shots rang out from the hallway. He crumpled to the floor as Enzo appeared, weapon drawn.
"Medic!" he shouted over his shoulder. "We need a medic here!"
Men in tactical gear swarmed the room, securing the area with practiced efficiency. I remained beside Lila, my bloody hands pressed against her wound until paramedics gently moved me aside.
"Is she going to be okay?" I asked as they worked.
"It's too early to tell for certain," one replied, applying pressure to the wound. "We need to get her to the hospital, but her vitals are stable."
Relief washed over me, quickly followed by exhaustion. I sat back on my heels, suddenly aware of the dead man beside me, of the blood coating my hands and clothes. I had killed him. The reality hit me in waves—the weight of the knife in my hand, the moment it sank into his flesh, the way his eyes had gone wide with shock. My hands began to shake as the adrenaline faded. I should have felt horror, remorse, something human. Instead, all I felt was a cold, practical satisfaction. He had threatened my child, threatened Lila. He'd gotten what he deserved. The numbness scared me more than the killing did.
He threatened my family. He paid the price.
The security team swept through the estate, room by room, as paramedics stabilized Lila for transport. I refused to leave her side until Enzo approached, his face grim.
"Vittorio is on his way," he said. "Ten minutes out."
I nodded, my mind already shifting to what needed to happen next. This attack proved what I had suspected since learning I was pregnant—there would be no safety for us here, not while enemies like Carbone lived.
When Vittorio arrived, he moved through the chaos with deadlycalm, his ice-blue eyes taking in every detail. He found me in the bedroom, still kneeling beside the bloodstain where Lila had fallen.
"Sophie," he breathed, crossing the room in three long strides.
I looked up at him, not bothering to hide the blood on my hands or the knife I still clutched. His gaze moved from me to the dead attacker, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"You did this?" he asked quietly.
"He gave me no choice." I rose to my feet, my decision already made. "Carbone sent them to kill me while you were away. To kill our child."
Vittorio's face hardened into a mask of cold fury. "Carbone is being dealt with as we speak."
"It's not enough," I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my limbs. "We leave. Tonight. I won't raise our child in a world where people try to kill me in my own bedroom. End this war, or I will disappear, and you'll never see either of us again."
I meant every word. I would protect my child at any cost—even from Vittorio himself if necessary.
He looked at the dead attacker, then at me holding the bloody knife, and something shifted in his expression. Recognition, perhaps, of what I had become—no longer his captive, no longer even just his lover, but a mother who would kill without hesitation to protect her family.
"Pack your things," he said quietly. "We're leaving the city."
In that moment, I knew our lives had changed irrevocably. The world Vittorio had built, the power he had accumulated—none of it mattered against the primal need to protect what was ours. We would forge a new path together, or I would forge one alone.
Either way, I would never again be the woman who waited helplessly for rescue.
