"The legal way nearly got you killed twice in eleven days."
"Then we get better security. Better protection. But we don't murder my father, no matter how much he deserves it." She met my eyes. "Because the moment we do, we become exactly what he always was. And I won't let him turn us into that."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to point out that her principles might get her killed, might get our babies killed.
But she was right.
We were better than that.
Had to be.
"Okay," I said finally. "We do it your way. Legal. By the book."
"Promise me."
"I promise,principessa."
I called Domenico that night, told him thanks but no. We'd handle Marco the right way.
He sighed. "It's your funeral, brother. Literally."
Maybe. But at least we'd die with our souls intact.
Marco made the choice for us.
It happened the following week—so fast, I'm still not sure how he managed it.
It was 3 p.m. on a Tuesday. Valentina was napping—exhausted from another sleepless night and morning sickness that wouldn't quit. I was in the office coordinating with Domenico's team about additional security measures.
Morris's FBI detail had been pulled to the perimeter twenty minutes earlier—orders from a superior about a credible threat to the north access road. A diversion, I realized later. By then, it was too late.
Then the alarms started screaming.
"Breach!" One of my men shouted through comms. "Four-man tactical team approaching—FBI credentials checking out—wait, something's wrong—Martinez is letting them through the checkpoint—fuck, Martinez is with them—"
Gunfire erupted downstairs. Two heavy thuds—bodies hitting the floor in quick succession, the wet sound of dead weight. Martinez. The FBI agent we'd trusted for three weeks. Marco's man all along.
I was already moving before conscious thought, weapon drawn, heading for Valentina.
Found her stumbling out of the bedroom, disoriented from sleep, one hand on her stomach.
"Alessio? What's—"
"Panic room. Now."
I half-carried her down the hall, punched in the code, and shoved her inside the reinforced safe room. She stumbled and caught herself against the wall.
"Don't open this door for anyone but me. Understand?"
"Alessio—"
"Promise me!"
"I promise."
I slammed the door, activated the electromagnetic locks, and heard them engage with heavy clicks.
She was safe. Pregnant with our twins, terrified but safe behind three inches of reinforced steel.
