My son should have gotten a full life. He should have known what it was like to live without fear, laugh without looking over his shoulder every few blocks. He deserved a childhood that wasn’t shaped by false names and constant vigilance. He’s barely lived at all and yet he’s already known more terror than most people face in their entire lifetime. All he’s ever known is running and hiding.
I swore to myself the night he was born and I first held him in my arms alone in that hospital room that no one from his world would ever touch him. Yet now here we are, being dragged toward our final moments while I’m powerless to stop it.
It isn’t fair.
None of this is?—
Suddenly, two sharp shots crack through the room.
The sound is deafening at this distance, so loud it feels like it punches straight through my skull. For a split second, my mind simply… blanks. I stumble forward, barely keeping my balance because the hands holding me up suddenly give.
Turning, I catch the sight of blood as it spatters outward. It blooms across the front of the man’s chest who had just been holding me. He staggers backward, his eyes wide with shock rather than pain as if his body hasn’t quite caught up to what’s happened. His chest heaves as he presses a gloved hand overthe wound, fingers slicking instantly while he tries futilely to compress it.
Another shot rings out. This one hits him square in the temple, snapping his head to the side before he crumples to the floor. There’s no twitch afterward, just his dead weight settling on the floor as the last bits of life leave him.
I don’t let myself process the sight of it. There’s no time for shock or room for fear to settle in and immobilize me again. Instinct takes over, forcing me to twist on my heel and lunge for the second man holding my baby. I slam into him from the side with everything I have. The impact knocks him off balance, sending him stumbling away from the window.
He swears, instinctively reaching for his weapon, and in that split second, his grip loosens on Luca.
The sound of my son’s small body hitting the floor is a nightmare I will hear for the rest of my life. A dull, sickening thud that rips a scream straight out of my mouth. But he doesn’t stay there. Whether it’s instinct or some desperate, primal will to survive, Luca uses the momentum to roll away just as the man scrambles to recover.
I throw myself down onto the floor and curve my body around him, pressing him flat against the floor to shield him with every inch of myself. I bury my face in his hair, my arms locked around his small body while waiting for the inevitable.
Gunfire erupts again with two more shots. The gurgle that follows is sickening and makes my stomach turn. The body falls soon after, hitting the floor with a deafening thud before stilling.
Silence crashes down around us.
I drag in a sharp, shaking breath and slowly lift my head. My vision blurs as I try to focus on the figure standing just in the doorway, my brain lagging behind as it struggles to make sense of what I’m seeing.
Dante holds his gun gripped tightly in his hand, his chest heaving as he scans the room intently. His weapon is still raised and trained forward, his posture rigid and ready for more. He looks like hell—hair disheveled, strands falling into his face, his clothes smeared with blood that I instinctively register as not his own.
From the way he moves, I know he hasn’t been hit.
When he finally lowers his weapon, he crosses the room in seconds. I don’t even have time to stand before he’s there kneeling in front of us, his hands firm and sure as they close around Luca and me, lifting us carefully off the floor and crushing us both against his chest. Luca sobs immediately, his small body shaking as he clings to Dante’s ruined shirt.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs in my ear right as my body sags into his, the fight draining from me. “I’ve got you.”
12
DANTE
The villa doesn’t sleep the rest of the night.
The halls are alive with motion long after the gunfire has faded. Guards rotate in tight, disciplined shifts patrolling every corridor, every stairwell and blind corner as orders are barked back and forth over their radios. Outside, floodlights burn against the dark night sky, washing the grounds in stark white as my enforcers sweep the entire property inch by inch.
I make sure every last intruder is found dead with a bullet in their head.
Alive is not an option.
By the time dawn threatens the horizon, all the bodies are taken and brought to a safehouse off the property to be identified and disposed of. Blood is scrubbed from the floors, windows are boarded up and reinforced, surveillance is doubled then tripled. Anyone who breathes inside this house is accounted for one by one.
As much of a nightmare as this has all been, my well-oiled machine runs as efficiently as always. The only silver lining I can possibly see.
I keep Elena and Luca in the master bedroom. Additional cameras are installed before the hour is up, and more men are posted outside the door and down the hallway than has ever been warranted before. I don’t particularly care if it’s overkill at this point. If the Bellantis want to try a second time, they’ll have to walk through hell itself to get to them again.
Now, Elena sits on the bed with Luca curled against her as she murmurs soft nonsense meant to coax him back into sleep. Her voice is smooth, but her hands tremble every time they brush through his hair despite her best efforts to steady them. Luca’s sobs have quieted since moving them from the room down the hallway to this one, but his body still jerks every so often when noise from outside filters in from the crack underneath the door.
Guilt overwhelms me so completely, it feels suffocating.
