Masked men flood into the ballroom. At least a dozen, all armed, all moving with military precision. They're heading straight for the tables, overturning them one by one.
We're running out of time.
Then Matteo is there. He moves through the smoke like death itself, my other brother Luca and Dante flanking him, Rafael already taking down two men with brutal efficiency. My brother's face is cold fury, his gun in one hand, knife in the other.
His eyes find mine under the table and something in his expression cracks. Just for a second. Fear. Such raw fear in his eyes that it is almost as if he was in that basement with me all those years ago.
"Enzo." Matteo snaps. "Take her. Now."
Enzo doesn't hesitate. "The others?—"
"I have Alessia." Matteo gestures and I see Dante pulling Bianca toward a side exit, his body shielding hers. "Luca's got security. Rafael will cover your exit then double back with reinforcements."
"Where?" Enzo asks.
"Not the mansion. They'll expect that." Matteo's jaw clenches. "One of the hiding places. I don't care which one. Just keep her alive. You're the only man I trust with her life."
The words steal my breath for a second. Because it's true. Matteo trusts Enzo with everything that matters. With the family's secrets. With the business. With me.
My life is always safe with Enzo. It's my heart that isn't.
Enzo's hand tightens on mine. "I've got her."
Then we're moving. He pulls me out from under the table, his body still blocking mine, and we run.
The ballroom is chaos. Smoke everywhere, people screaming, bodies on the ground. I try not to look at them. Try not to see who's bleeding, who's not moving. Just focus on Enzo's hand in mine, on staying upright, on not falling.
We hit the stairwell and immediately I realize the problem. My heels. The tight dress that looked beautiful two hours ago is now a death trap. I can barely move in it, can't run, can't?—
My ankle twists and I stumble. “Oh!” I yelp.
Enzo catches me before I hit the ground. "The dress. Fuck.”
"I know." My voice comes out sharp with frustration. "I'm trying?—"
He doesn't wait for me to finish. His hands go to the bottom of my dress and he rips, hard.
The sound of tearing silk cuts through the chaos. I gasp. The skirt splits up to mid-thigh, suddenly loose enough to move in. And Enzo is staring.
His eyes drop to my legs. To the expanse of bare skin now visible. To the way the torn fabric falls around my thighs.
Oh.
Heat floods through me, sharp and visceral. Wrong. This is the wrong time for this. We're running for our lives and he's looking at me like he wants to drag me into a dark corner and?—
His eyes snap back to mine. Dark. Hungry. Dangerous.
I want it.
"Better?" His voice comes out rough.
I feel that roughness all the way down to my toes. "B-Better." I find myself whimpering.
Then reality crashes back. More gunfire. Shouts getting closer.
Enzo looks at the stairs, at my heels, at the torn dress. Makes a decision.
"Hold on."
