The Siren

Erin’s POV

The siren came out of nowhere.

It wasn’t loud at first, just a thin sound, distant, strange, like the wind had swallowed something sharp. Then it grew, a rising scream that filled every corner of the mansion. The lights flickered once, twice, and went out completely.

Luca’s small hand gripped mine before I even had time to think. His fingers were cold, trembling. The toy car he’d been playing with rolled off the rug and hit the floor with a soft clink.

“Erin?” His voice was small, the kind of small that burrows straight under your ribs.

“It’s okay,” I said automatically, though I didn’t believe it. “Probably just… a power thing.”

But I knew it wasn’t. The house didn’t just lose power. Not a house like this. I’d seen the backup generators near the garage, big enough to light up a whole block. If the lights were out, it wasn’t by accident.

Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed. Then another. Heavy footsteps pounded on the marble floors, rushed, urgent. Muffled voices followed low, sharp, panicked.

Luca flinched. I pulled him closer, my own heart starting to race.

“What’s happening?” he whispered.

“I don’t know.” I crouched so we were at the same height, hands on his shoulders. “But you’re safe, okay? You stay with me. Don’t open the door for anyone unless I say so.”

He nodded, eyes wide, but I could tell he didn’t understand. His breath came fast, uneven.

The siren kept wailing. Red emergency lights flicked on in the corners of the ceiling, bathing the hallway in a dim, eerie glow. The shadows stretched longer, darker, almost alive.

I turned toward the door, listening. Shouts echoed from downstairs, guards, maybe, or something worse.

Then, a voice I didn’t expect.

“Lockdown! Move! Every exit sealed..now!”

Michele.

Even from far away, his voice cut through the noise like a blade. Calm but deadly, each word deliberate. My chest tightened at the sound, some mix of relief and dread. Relief because he was here. Dread because if he sounded like that, it meant something serious.

Luca looked at me. “Papa?”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “He’s here.”

Before I could say more, a knock hit the door fast, heavy, controlled.

“Erin!”

I froze. It was one of the guards. His tone was clipped, professional, the kind that didn’t waste words.

“Stay in the room. Do not open the door. Do you understand?”

I moved closer. “What’s happening?”

“Protocol lockdown. You stay put with the kid. No one leaves this floor until the boss says so.”

Then he was gone, footsteps fading before I could ask another question.

Protocol lockdown.

The words stuck like a splinter.

I turned back to Luca. He was clutching his rabbit against his chest, shaking. I forced a smile I didn’t feel and pulled him toward the corner near the bed.

“Come here,” I said softly. “We’ll stay here, okay? Just for a little while.”

He nodded, crawling beside me. I wrapped an arm around him, trying to steady my breathing. My pulse wouldn’t calm down. The siren was still going, but underneath it, I could hear something else — the sound of engines outside, the faint metallic click of guns being loaded.

I shouldn’t know that sound. But I did.

I swallowed hard.

Minutes passed like hours. The red light pulsed faintly every few seconds, painting the room in colorless waves. I tried to keep my mind blank, but it wouldn’t stop moving, the way Michele’s guards had been on edge lately.

What if it wasn’t just a drill? What if someone had come for them, for Michele….for Luca?

The air felt heavy, too thick to breathe.

Luca pressed closer. “Erin,” he whispered, “Papa always says if the lights go red, it means danger.”

I tightened my grip. “He’s right. But he knows what to do, remember?”

He nodded again, though tears had started to form in his eyes.

“Tell me something,” I said, trying to keep his mind off it. “What do you do when you’re scared?”

He sniffled. “Papa says to breathe.”

“Good advice.” I managed a weak smile. “Let’s do that, okay? You breathe, I’ll breathe.”

He copied me, chest rising and falling, small breaths turning steadier. I didn’t realize until then that I’d been holding mine.

For a moment, we sat like that. the room quiet except for the siren echoing faintly from below.

Then the sound changed. The siren cut off, leaving a vacuum of silence so sudden it hurt my ears. A second later, the intercom crackled to life.

“All clear,” a voice said. “Lockdown remains active until confirmation. No one moves until the boss gives word.”

The line went dead.

All clear, but still locked down.

I stared at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum that replaced the noise. Somewhere far below, I could hear faint shouting, orders being thrown back and forth. It didn’t sound like “all clear” to me.

Luca yawned, the adrenaline wearing off fast. His head fell against my chest, small and warm. I rubbed his back slowly.

“You tired?”

“A little,” he murmured. “Will Papa come soon?”

I hesitated. “He’s busy making sure everything’s safe. But yeah. He’ll come.”

He seemed to accept that. His breathing slowed, his weight settling heavier against me. Within minutes, he was asleep.

I stayed still, afraid to wake him. My back ached from sitting against the wall, but I didn’t move. The quiet pressed down on me like another weight.

That’s when I noticed it.

A faint light flashing from the corner of the ceiling. Not the red one — smaller, hidden. I stood up slowly, careful not to disturb Luca, and squinted.

A camera.

It blinked once, steady and deliberate.

My throat went dry.

Of course there was a camera. Why wouldn’t there be? This wasn’t just a house; it was a fortress. Michele had eyes everywhere. Probably even here, watching now.

I looked down at Luca, then back at the lens.

“Guess you’re seeing this,” I muttered under my breath.

I didn’t know why I said it. Maybe part of me wanted him to know I was doing what he told me staying put, protecting the boy. Maybe part of me just wanted to remind him that I wasn’t a threat.

Minutes bled into each other again. I lost count of time. The only sound was the faint hum of the backup generator kicking in somewhere far below.

My eyes burned. I hadn’t realized how tired I was until now. The adrenaline had left me hollow. I leaned my head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling.

That’s when the door handle moved.

A soft click.

My entire body froze.

I didn’t breathe. My eyes shot to the door. The handle turned again, slow, deliberate.

“Erin?”

The voice came through quiet, controlled. But I knew it instantly.

Michele.

Relief hit so fast it almost hurt. I stood up, gently setting Luca’s head on the pillow. I walked to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open.

He stood there, tall and sharp even in the dim light, shirt sleeves rolled, his expression unreadable. Two guards flanked the hallway behind him, both alert.

His eyes swept over me first, then the room, landing briefly on Luca asleep on the bed. Something in his jaw softened, just barely.

“You stayed put,” he said quietly.

I nodded. “Like you said.”

“Good.” He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The guards remained outside.

The moment he entered, the air changed. It always did. The room felt smaller somehow, heavier. His presence filled it completely.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Someone tried to breach the outer gate,” he said simply. “They didn’t get far.”

“Who?”

“We’ll find out.” His tone made it clear that whoever it was wouldn’t live long after he did.

He glanced toward Luca again, then back at me. “He didn’t panic?”

“No,” I said. “He got scared, but he held on.”

Michele nodded once, eyes still on his son. There was something in that look — something I couldn’t name. It wasn’t the cold detachment I’d seen before. It was quieter, rawer.

Then his gaze moved back to me.

“You did well,” he said.

The words hit harder than they should’ve.

“Thanks,” I managed, though my voice came out rough.

He took a step closer, stopping just a breath away. The faint light from the hallway caught his face, the sharp lines, the small scar near his temple, the intensity that never seemed to fade.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

Then he said, “You were afraid.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I admitted.

His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me. “But you stayed.”

I swallowed. “He needed me.”

He stared at me for another long moment, then nodded again, slow, like he was filing that away somewhere private.

The silence stretched. I could hear the faint hum of the generator again, the soft sound of Luca’s breathing behind us.

Michele’s voice dropped lower. “Next time, you follow my orders exactly. If something happens, you take him to the panic room down the hall. Don’t wait for anyone.”

“There’s a panic room?”

He gave a faint smirk. “You think I’d live without one?”

I shook my head. “Guess not.”

He looked at me again, longer this time. His eyes flickered toward the corner of the ceiling, where the small camera blinked. Then back to me.

“Don’t look so tense,” he said quietly. “You did what you were supposed to.”

“Hard not to be tense when there’s….” I stopped myself.

He tilted his head. “When there’s what?”

I hesitated, then said it. “When there’s someone watching. All the time.”

He didn’t even blink. “That’s how you stay alive.”

“I get that. But it doesn’t feel like living.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Maybe surprise. Maybe understanding. Then it was gone.

He took another step closer. I could smell the faint scent of smoke and whiskey on him. It made my chest feel tight for reasons I didn’t want to name.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said softly. “Or you’ll learn to stop caring.”

“I’m not sure which is worse.”

He didn’t answer. His gaze drifted down briefly, then back up. When he spoke again, his tone had changed, still quiet, but with something heavier underneath.

“You were right earlier,” he said. “About desperate men.”

I frowned. “What about them?”

“They don’t lie.”

He said it like an admission, not a statement. Like he’d seen proof of it tonight.

I didn’t know what to say. My pulse thudded in my throat.

He looked at me one more time, not like a boss looking at an employee, but like a man measuring something inside himself. Then he turned toward the door.

“Get some rest,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

“Michele—”

He paused.

“Are we safe now?”

He didn’t answer right away. His hand lingered on the door handle. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but certain.

“For now.”