I'm here. I'm waiting. I'm fighting.
Please hurry.
I must have dozed. Despite everything. Despite the pain and fear and impossible situation. Exhaustion pulled me under into fitful, nightmare-filled sleep.
I woke to sounds outside the door. Movement. Voices. Shouting.
Then gunfire. Close. Getting closer.
My heart raced. What was happening?
The door burst open. Not Dante. One of his guards—thick-necked man with a gun.
"We've got company. Move the package—"
More gunfire. Closer now. In the house above us.
The guard grabbed a phone. Started calling someone. "They found us. We need—"
The lights went out. Complete darkness except for emergency lighting that kicked in. Red glow casting everything in shadows.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Running. Multiple people.
The guard raised his gun toward the door.
"Don't move!" Matteo's voice. Unmistakable. "Drop the weapon!"
The guard fired. Muzzle flash in the darkness. Returned fire from the other side of the door The guard dropped. Dead or unconscious, I couldn't tell.
Then Dante was there. He must have entered the room with the guard. My skin crawled at the thought that he’d been close and I hadn’t known.
He grabbed my chair. Pulled a knife. Held it to my throat.
"Back off! I'll kill him! I swear to God I'll—"
The door exploded inward. Wood splintering. Lock shattering.
Elio burst through.
And everything stopped.
He was there. Actually there. Not a dream. Not a hallucination. Real.
Black tactical gear. Gun raised. Face set in an expression I'd never seen before. Cold. Lethal. Absolutely focused.
Our eyes met. Just for a second. His expression shifted. From lethal focus to something raw and desperate.
"Julian—"
"Stay back!" Dante's knife pressed harder against my throat. I felt it break skin. Felt blood trickle down. "Stay back or I cut his throat!"
Behind Elio, Matteo appeared. And Luca. Both armed. Both looking ready to kill.
"Let him go, Dante." Elio's voice was steady. Controlled. "Let him go and we can talk. Negotiate. Find a solution."
"The only solution is you leaving. All of you. Let me take what's mine."
"He's not yours. He never was. Let him go."
