Chapter 8: The Night Everything Changed

The silence after the gunshot was worse than the gunshot itself.

I stood in the middle of the room, staring at the door.

My fingers were still curled around the photograph Luca had given me.

My mother.

Alive.

The thought refused to settle in my mind.

It kept circling.

Alive.

Alive.

Alive.

Another sound came from somewhere outside.

Not a gunshot this time.

A shout.

Then several hurried footsteps.

I flinched.

My eyes moved toward the door.

Luca had told me not to open it.

But Luca had also just walked straight into whatever was happening outside.

And now I couldn't hear him.

That scared me.

I walked toward the door.

Stopped.

Walked back.

Then toward it again.

“This is ridiculous,” I whispered.

I was kidnapped.

Locked inside a mansion.

Apparently being hunted by people I didn't even know.

And somehow my biggest problem at that moment was whether I should disobey the man who kidnapped me.

I placed my hand on the doorknob.

Then removed it.

No.

I wasn't going to be stupid.

I stepped away.

Three seconds later, the door burst open.

I screamed.

Marco rushed inside and slammed it shut behind him.

“Where's Luca?”

My heart dropped.

“Is he okay?”

Marco looked at me.

“Did he come back?”

“No.”

His expression tightened.

That was when I noticed the small cut near his eyebrow.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

“You're bleeding.”

“It's nothing.”

He moved toward the window.

I followed him with my eyes.

“Where's Luca?”

“He's handling it.”

“Handling what?”

Marco didn't answer.

I stepped closer.

“Marco.”

He turned.

“You need to stay here.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.”

“Because you don't listen.”

“I wouldn't have to keep asking questions if someone actually gave me answers.”

His eyes narrowed.

Then he looked at the photograph in my hand.

His entire expression changed.

“Where did you get that?”

I looked down at it.

“Luca.”

Marco's face went blank.

“Did he tell you anything?”

“About my mother?”

A pause.

Then he looked away.

That was enough.

“You know something.”

“No.”

“Don't lie to me.”

“I don't know anything.”

“You're terrible at lying.”

He almost smiled.

Almost.

Then the sound of another gunshot echoed through the night.

Marco immediately reached for the weapon at his waist.

“Stay behind me.”

I stepped back.

“What is happening?”

“Someone breached the east side of the property.”

My stomach tightened.

“How many people?”

“We don't know.”

“Are they coming here?”

His silence was terrifying.

“Marco?”

“We need to move.”

“Where?”

“There's a safer room downstairs.”

“No.”

He stared at me.

“No?”

“I don't want to go into another locked room.”

“This isn't negotiable.”

“Everything here is apparently negotiable until I say no.”

“Christiana.”

The warning in his voice made me stop.

He walked toward me.

“Whatever happens, you stay with me.”

“Where's Luca?”

“I told you. He's handling it.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it's the truth.”

“Then why aren't you with him?”

Marco didn't answer.

And that frightened me more than anything else.

Before I could ask another question, the lights went out.

The entire mansion disappeared into darkness.

I gasped.

Somewhere downstairs, an alarm began ringing.

Marco grabbed my arm.

“Don't move.”

I froze.

“Marco?”

“Quiet.”

We listened.

Footsteps.

Not one person.

Several.

Coming from downstairs.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

Marco pulled me toward the wall.

Then suddenly—

A voice came through the darkness.

“Find the girl.”

I stopped breathing.

The voice wasn't far away.

They were inside.

Marco's grip tightened around my arm.

“Stay here.”

He moved toward the door.

I grabbed his sleeve.

“Don't leave me.”

He looked at me.

For a moment, something in his expression softened.

Then he gently removed my hand.

“I'll be back.”

He stepped outside.

The door closed.

I was alone.

Again.

I could hear movement in the hallway.

My mind screamed at me to hide.

I looked around the room.

There was nowhere.

The closet.

Too obvious.

Under the bed.

Worse.

I glanced toward the window.

Then toward the door.

Footsteps were getting closer.

I grabbed the first heavy object I could find.

A lamp.

It wasn't much.

But it was something.

The handle of the door slowly moved.

I raised the lamp.

The door opened.

I swung.

“Wait!”

I stopped just in time.

Luca.

He caught my wrist before I could hit him.

For a second, neither of us moved.

His breathing was heavy.

His black shirt was slightly torn at the shoulder.

There was a small streak of blood near his temple.

My eyes immediately went to it.

“Are you hurt?”

He stared at me.

“You were about to hit me with a lamp.”

“You scared me.”

“You're supposed to stay away from the door.”

“You disappeared!”

His jaw tightened.

“I told you to stay inside.”

“I did.”

His eyes moved to the lamp in my hand.

“Clearly.”

I lowered it.

“What happened?”

“It's handled.”

“Are they gone?”

“For now.”

“For now?”

He didn't answer.

I stepped closer.

“Who are they?”

“People who shouldn't have found this place.”

“Why were they looking for me?”

His eyes met mine.

“Because someone told them you were here.”

My stomach dropped.

“Who?”

“I don't know yet.”

“You always say that.”

“Because I don't lie to you.”

I laughed bitterly.

“You barely tell me anything.”

“Because the truth can get you killed.”

The words silenced me.

He looked at me for a moment.

Then his eyes dropped to my hand.

The photograph.

I had forgotten I was still holding it.

His expression changed.

“You kept it.”

“Yes.”

“Give it to me.”

I pulled it against my chest.

“No.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Christiana.”

“You told me my mother is alive.”

“Yes.”

“Then I'm keeping it.”

“You don't understand what that photograph means.”

“Then explain it.”

He said nothing.

I stepped closer.

“Who is the man standing behind her?”

Luca went completely still.

I looked at the photograph again.

I hadn't noticed him before.

A man stood several feet behind my mother.

His face was partly hidden by the shadows.

But there was something about him.

Something familiar.

Luca took the photograph from my hand before I could stop him.

“Where did you see that?”

“On the picture.”

“Did you recognize him?”

“No.”

His eyes remained fixed on the photograph.

Then he whispered something so quietly I almost missed it.

“He found you.”

“Who?”

Luca looked up.

For the first time, there was genuine fear in his eyes.

Not for himself.

For me.

“Your father.”

I froze.

“My father?”

Luca nodded slowly.

“The man you were told abandoned you.”

My heart pounded.

“You know my father too?”

“I know enough.”

“Then tell me where he is.”

He didn't answer.

“Luca!”

He looked toward the door.

Then back at me.

“Because tonight wasn't an attack.”

I frowned.

“What do you mean?”

His voice dropped.

“They weren't here to kill you.”

I felt a chill run through me.

“Then what did they want?”

He stared directly into my eyes.

“They came to take you home.”

I couldn't speak.

And somehow, that was more terrifying than anything else he had said.