And then…
The alarm screams. Not a soft chime. Not a warning beep. A shriek. Metallic and violent, ripping through the room likea blade. Red lights flash in the hall outside the door, strobing through the glass.
For half a second, we freeze. His hand is still inside my underwear. My shirt is half unbuttoned. His belt is undone. My heart is pounding so hard, it feels like it might split my ribs.
Turo’s face changes in one second. The man holding me disappears. The don snaps into place. Armor. Control.
War.
His hand withdraws fast, not rough, not careless. Precise, as if he has to put distance between us before the danger can see us. His phone rings, and he answers without looking away from the door.
“Yes.”
A pause. Everything in him goes still.
“Where?”
Another pause. His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping.
“Again?” he bites out.
My stomach drops. Cold replaces heat so fast, it’s nauseating.
Turo stands, shifting me off his lap with controlled urgency, like he’s trying not to jolt me but also trying not to waste time.
“Sir,” a voice crackles through the phone, tight and clipped. “Multiple breaches. Southwest perimeter. At least three armed contacts. This isn’t a probe.”
My blood turns to ice. Not a probe. Not just circling. Not just watching. Real. Here. Now.
Turo is already moving, fixing his belt with one hand, gripping the phone with the other. “Lock down the family wing,” he orders. “No one in or out. Move teams to intercept. Do not let them reach the house.”
He pauses. His gaze snaps to me. Sharp. Fierce. Terrifyingly calm.
“Where’s Nico?”
“Asleep with guards,” the voice replies immediately. “Two on the door, one inside?—”
“Good,” Turo says, and it isn’t from relief. It’s calculation. “Hold. Do not move him unless I order it.”
He ends the call. And then he turns fully to me. For one heartbeat, the man comes back. The one who asked permission. The one who listened. The one who held my face like it mattered.
His hands grip my shoulders, steadying me. “Lucia,” he says. “Get to him.”
My throat closes. “I…”
He shakes his head once. No room for panic. No room for argument.
“Lock the door,” he continues. “Do not open it for anyone but me. Understand?”
My whole body is shaking again, the way it did after the gala. Only this time, it isn’t because of humiliation. It’s fear. Real fear.
I nod, because my voice is gone. Turo leans in and kisses me.
“Go,” he says against my mouth.
And I do. I yank my shirt together with shaking hands as I stumble for the door. My fingers fumble with the buttons like they’ve forgotten how to work.
The hallway is chaos. Lights flashing, footsteps pounding, voices sharp in radios. I run. Barefoot. Heartbeat in my ears like gunfire. Every part of me screaming one name.
