"Luca is occupied." Alessandro's smile is cold. "That's the beauty of good timing, Giulia. Your husband is across the city right now, eliminating threats to your family. He has no idea you're in danger. By the time he realizes something's wrong, it will be far too late."
My stomach twists. Luca doesn't know. He can't help. He’s too far away to save me.
I'm alone. Completely, utterly alone.
"Now walk." Alessandro guides me toward the door, the gun a constant pressure against my ribs. "And remember—one wrong move, one sound, and I pull the trigger. Your baby dies. Understand?"
I nod. The bathroom door opens. The hallway beyond is empty and quiet, the sounds of the gala distant and muffled. Alessandro's men surround us, creating the illusion of a group of people simply leaving the event early.
"Smile," Alessandro reminds me softly. "You're a happy newlywed, remember? Act like it."
I try to smile. But all I can feel is the gun against my ribs and the absolute, annihilating terror of knowing that everything—mylife, my baby's life, any chance of a future with Luca—is balanced on the edge of a knife.
And Alessandro is the one holding the blade.
25
LUCA
The operation is going perfectly. Too perfectly.
I'm in the surveillance van three blocks from the first target, watching feeds from all three locations simultaneously. My earpiece crackles with check-ins every thirty seconds—clean and professional, exactly what I trained them to do.
"Team One, target secured. Two hostiles down, no casualties."
"Team Two, entry complete. Three hostiles neutralized."
"Team Three, clear. Building secured."
I lean back in my chair, watching the screens. Three Marchesi safe houses were hit simultaneously, their operatives eliminated before they could warn each other or call for backup. Dante wanted a message sent, now that the unrest in our own family has calmed somewhat. The Marchesis have been getting bolder—moving product through our territory, recruiting our soldiers, testing our boundaries. Tonight we intended to remind them why that's a mistake.
"I want every phone, every computer, every piece of paper. Bag it all up and bring it back.”
A chorus of affirmatives comes back. I watch the feeds as my men move through the buildings, overturning furniture, checking walls for hidden compartments, photographing documents, finding anything that will incriminate the Marchesi family further. It’s a wild success, and it should feel satisfying, like things are going back to the natural order.
Instead, my stomach is tight with unease. I keep thinking about this morning and the anxiety that's been crawling under my skin all day, screaming that something is wrong.
I assigned Giulia the best security detail I have. Vince and Tommas are solid—former military, loyal, and competent. They'll keep her safe at the charity gala while I'm handling this.
She'll be fine.
"Boss." One of the tech guys monitoring communications taps my shoulder. "Team One is reporting something weird."
I lean forward. "Weird how?"
"The operatives they took down—they're low-level. Street soldiers. Not the kind of guys you'd station at a safe house with valuable intelligence."
My unease sharpens. "What about the other locations?"
He checks his screens. "Team Two is saying the same thing. The guys they found were barely armed."
"Team Three?"
"Still searching, but—yeah. Same story."
I stand up, moving closer to the monitors. On screen, I can see my men going through the first location. It's sparse—too sparse. A few mattresses, some basic supplies, minimal security equipment. This doesn't look like a safe house. It looks like a decoy.
"Team One, what are you finding?" I ask into the comm.
