"No!" The word tore from my throat.
"Then let's talk." Marco released me and stepped back. Composed, reasonable. Like we were discussing business, not murder. "You have sixty seconds to decide your future, Valentina."
My breath came in short gasps. Alessio's eyes found mine, dark and desperate. Trying to tell me something, warn me.
"Option one," Marco continued. "You come home. Get the psychiatric help you clearly need. We'll adjust your medication and ensure you're stable. Then you marry Senator Caldwell as originally planned. We spin this entire incident as a breakdown—stress, paranoia, delusions. Society will sympathize. The wedding gets postponed, not canceled. Six months from now, you walk down that aisle."
"And if I refuse?"
"You'll have a tragic accident right here. Gunshot wound, self-inflicted, in your unstable state. Security footage will show Alessio forcing you into his car, bringing you here against your will. He'll take the fall for your murder—I have witnesses ready to testify, evidence planted, everything needed. The war between our families will be blamed entirely on him."
He checked his watch.
"Forty seconds."
I looked at Alessio. Blood dripped from his chin and stained his shirt. But his gaze remained steady, fierce. He gave the smallest shake of his head.
Don't.
Marco noticed. "Valiant. Romantic, even. But pointless. You can't save him, Valentina. You can only choose who survives."
"Thirty seconds."
My mind raced. My memory was trying to recall exits, weapons, and possibilities. The windows were reinforced glass, three stories above the grounds. The door was blocked by armed men. Alessio was pinned, bleeding. I was unarmed and untrained compared to professionals.
We were going to die here.
"I need—" My voice cracked. "I need a minute to think."
"No." Marco's expression hardened. "Twenty seconds. Decide."
Alessio's lips moved. I couldn't hear him over my pounding heart, but I could read the shape.Don't.
Tears blurred my vision. This couldn't be how it ended. Not after everything, not after finding someone who saw me, truly saw me. Not after choosing love over safety.
"Ten seconds."
I opened my mouth. Didn't know what would come out, what choice I'd make.
The windows exploded.
Glass shattered inward as tactical ropes dropped from the roof. Bodies swung through, weapons already firing. Smoke grenades detonated, filling the study with choking gray clouds.
Marco's security scattered, returning fire. The guard holding Alessio went down, a bullet through his throat. Alessio moved instantly, ripping the gun from the fallen man's grip and dropping another guard with two shots below the vest line.
Someone grabbed my arm. I spun, fist already swinging.
"Easy!" Domenico's voice was familiar and welcome. "We're leaving. Now."
He shoved a gun into my hands and pulled me toward the hallway. Through the smoke, I glimpsed more of Alessio's men rappelling through the shattered frames.
Gunfire erupted behind us. Domenico fired without looking, covering our retreat. We burst into the hallway where more of Alessio's team had secured positions. Professional, coordinated. They must have been moving into place the whole time Marco was talking.
"Alessio!" I screamed over the chaos.
He appeared from the smoke like an avenging demon. Blood streaked his face, murder in his eyes. He grabbed my hand, and we ran.
The DeLuca estate descended into war. Guests screamed in the ballroom below. Security scrambled, trying to contain the situation. We crashed through servants' passages, down hidden stairs, my photographic memory guiding us toward the garage.
