Lockdown

Michele’s pov

The conference room smelled like polished wood and stale air. A dozen voices spoke at once, all talking numbers that meant little to me in that moment. I sat at the head of the table, listening without hearing, my mind already halfway home.

Luca hadn’t answered my call that morning. He rarely forgot. Usually, he’d send a message through his nanny or one of the staff, Papa, I’m feeding the koi. Call later. This time, nothing. Just silence. I told myself he was fine, that I’d been overprotective lately. But the unease stayed, quiet but constant, like the buzz under a faulty light.

Paolo, my right-hand man, sat to my left, pretending to read a report. He caught my glance, lowered his eyes. He could feel it too, the weight in the room that didn’t belong to business.

The clock hit noon. I opened my mouth to dismiss the meeting when the door burst open.

One of my men stood there, chest heaving. “Sir,” he said, voice tight. “Lockdown. The house just sealed itself.”

For a second, the words didn’t register. Then the sound around me faded, the chatter, the shuffle of papers, the hum of the air conditioning until all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears.

“Explain,” I said quietly.

“Main alarms triggered from the garden sensors,” he answered. “System automatically locked down. We can’t reach the inside lines. Power’s unstable.”

“And my son?” The question came out sharper than I intended.

He hesitated, eyes flicking to Paolo before answering. “We don’t have confirmation.”

I was already on my feet. The chair scraped back hard enough to startle the men around the table. “Get the car,” I said.

Paolo rose instantly, following close behind. “Michele—”

“Now.”

We moved fast through the corridor. My phone vibrated in my pocket, three missed calls from security, none from home. I ignored them all, striding toward the exit. Paolo kept pace, already barking orders into his headset.

By the time we reached the garage, the car was waiting. I slid into the back seat, slammed the door, and signaled the driver before Paolo could speak. Tires screeched against the pavement as we pulled out.

“Tell me everything,” I said.

Paolo adjusted the earpiece, his voice clipped. “Initial alert came from Zone Four, the gardens. Two guards reported a signal jam, then radio silence. Auto-lockdown initiated thirty seconds later. All outer gates sealed.”

“Inside?”

“Minimal movement detected. Heat sensors confirm at least four people in the main residence, including Luca’s corridor. One is the new employee.”

Erin.

The name hit hard enough to make my hands clench against my knees.

“Status of the safe room?”

“Closed and secure,” he said quickly. “Manual override from the inside. Only Luca or security could have triggered it.”

A breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding escaped me. “Good,” I said. “Keep it that way.”

The car flew down the road, the city blurring into shapes and color. Outside, horns blared, pedestrians turned to look, but I barely noticed. Every mile between me and that house felt heavier.

Paolo spoke again, softer this time. “Sir, we’ve dispatched units from the east gate. They’ll reach the property in ten minutes.”

“Too slow,” I said. “Call ahead. I want the power restored before I arrive.”

He nodded, fingers moving over his phone. The faint clicking filled the silence. I stared out the window, the reflection of my own face sharp and cold against the glass.

Luca’s laugh echoed faintly in my memory bright, careless, the way he sounded when he thought I wasn’t listening. The thought twisted something in my chest.

He had been through enough already. He didn’t deserve another reason to be afraid.

“Sir,” Paolo said quietly, “it could be a system error.”

I looked at him. “You don’t believe that.”

“No,” he admitted, “but it’s possible.”

“Nothing’s ever just possible,” I said. “It’s deliberate or it isn’t.”

He said nothing after that.

The car turned off the main road, climbing the long private drive that cut through the trees. Through the windshield, the mansion appeared on the hill, pale against the darker sky. Even from a distance, I could see the red strobe of emergency lights flickering across the windows.

Paolo’s phone buzzed again. He answered, listened, then met my eyes. “Main power just failed again. Backup’s running, but cameras are down.”

“Then someone’s inside.”

“Or the system glitched.”

I didn’t reply. We both knew which answer was more likely.

The car stopped at the outer gate. Two of my men were already there, scanning codes into the panel. When they saw me step out, they straightened instantly.

“Status?” I demanded.

“Perimeter sealed,” one said. “No breach visible. Communication jam still active. Internal team waiting near the east entry.”

I pushed past him. “Open it.”

They hesitated. “Sir, it’s not safe….”

“I said open it.”

Metal groaned as the gate slid aside. I stepped through, the air colder here, sharp with the scent of wet stone and ozone. Paolo kept close, murmuring into his headset. My men followed at a distance, their boots crunching on the gravel.

The front doors loomed ahead, half lit by the backup lights. For a moment I imagined Luca behind them, small hands over his ears, waiting for a sound that told him it was over. That thought alone was enough to steady me.

When I spoke again, my voice was calm. “Activate internal lights manually. I want visual in every hall within five minutes. Check the generator.”

“Yes, sir.”

We entered the foyer. The air inside felt still, too still, like the house had been holding its breath since the alarm began. The lights flickered once, weakly, before returning to a dim red glow.

“Safe room access?” I asked.

“Still locked,” Paolo said, scanning the tablet in his hand. “Signal from within confirms occupied. Could be Luca. Could be the new one.”

“Either way, they stay put until I say otherwise.”

I started down the corridor toward the security control room. Each step echoed off the marble floor, the sound swallowed by distance. My eyes swept the corners, the shadows. Nothing moved. No broken glass, no sign of intrusion, just silence and that faint hum from the generators.

In the control room, screens flickered weakly. One by one, images came back, kitchen, library, courtyard. Then, finally, the feed from the lower levels. Most rooms were empty.

Paolo leaned forward, tapping the screen that showed the basement corridor. “Safe room’s behind that panel.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

He glanced at me. “You want me to send a team?”

“No. I’ll go.”

“Sir… ”

“I said I’ll go.”

He hesitated only a second before nodding. “Understood. I’ll have them cover the exits.”

I left him there, moving through the lower hallways alone. My footsteps sounded louder now. The red emergency lights cast long shadows that stretched along the walls. The silence felt almost alive, listening.

Halfway down the corridor, I paused. The air carried the faintest trace of smoke, like overheated wires. My hand went automatically to the concealed switch that opened the hidden panel. It slid aside with a soft click, revealing the reinforced door to the safe room.

I pressed my palm to the sensor. It stayed red.

Locked from the inside.

For a long moment I stood there, listening nothing. Then a sound, barely there: a small thud, like someone shifting their weight on the other side.

“Luca,” I said quietly.

No answer. My throat tightened despite myself. “It’s me.”

A pause. Then, faintly, “Papa?”

The relief hit so fast it almost knocked the air out of me. “Open the door, son.”

“I can’t. It’s locked.”

“Then stay where you are. Don’t touch anything. I’ll get it open.”

I turned toward the stairwell. Paolo was already hurrying down, tablet in hand. “Signal’s stabilizing,” he said. “We’re restoring manual control.”

“Do it.”

He keyed in a sequence. The lock clicked green.

I pushed the door open.

The light from the corridor spilled inside, cutting through the dim space. Luca stood near the far wall, eyes wide but dry, his small hands clenched around the hem of his shirt. Erin knelt beside him, a protective hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Both turned toward me at once.

Luca ran first. I caught him easily, crouching to pull him close. His heartbeat thudded fast against my chest. “You’re alright,” I said, softer than I meant to. “It’s over.”

He nodded against me. “The lights went off. Erin said it was a drill.”

I looked past him at the man still kneeling by the wall. Erin rose slowly, keeping his distance, eyes uncertain. His shirt was rumpled, dirt on his sleeve. He looked tired, but steady.

“Did he hurt you?” I asked Luca.

“No. He stayed.”

I met Erin’s gaze. “Good.”

He nodded once. “He didn’t panic,” he said quietly. “Neither did you.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the hum of the emergency lights filling the space between words. Then I turned back to Paolo. “Full report in my office in twenty minutes. I want every log checked.”

“Yes, sir.”

He left quickly, giving us space.

I exhaled, finally letting the tension drain from my shoulders. Luca tugged at my sleeve. “Are we safe now?”

“Yes,” I said. “You did well.”

He smiled faintly. “Erin said you’d come.”

My eyes flicked toward the man again. “Did he?”

Erin shrugged, almost embarrassed. “Seemed like the right thing to tell him.”

The quiet stretched, not uncomfortable just heavy, full of things that didn’t need to be said. Then I nodded once. “Thank you.”

He looked surprised, then just inclined his head. “He’s a good kid.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I worry.”

He didn’t answer. The light flickered once more, settling into steady white as the main power returned. Outside, the faint hum of engines signaled my men repositioning, checking the perimeter. The house was breathing again.

I lifted Luca into my arms, feeling the last tremor of fear leave his small body. “Let’s get you something to eat,” I said. “You’ve earned it.”

He grinned weakly, resting his head against my shoulder.

As we stepped into the hall, Erin followed a few paces behind, quiet and watchful. I could feel his eyes on us, on me. Something in his expression lingered: not curiosity, not fear. Something steadier. Something that made me uneasy because it felt like trust.

Trust was the most dangerous thing in my world.

And yet, in that moment, I didn’t push it away.