Sunlight filtered through the thick drapes of the safehouse, casting long streaks of gold across the wooden floor. The house sat nestled deep in the countryside, far from the chaos that seemed to follow them like a shadow. For the first time in days, a fragile calm had settled. Draco was curled up on the couch, a navy-blue blanket tucked around his small frame and his worn stuffed wolf clutched tightly in his arms. His breathing was slow and steady—peaceful, at least for now.Elena stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her gaze drifting from her son to the three men hunched over a laptop at the dining table. Damien, Nico, and Lorenzo were replaying footage from the last ambush—every second scrutinized, every frame dissected. The air was heavy with tension.She cleared her throat.They didn’t look up.Elena stepped closer and said, with unmistakable firmness, “We’re running out of everything—diapers, fruit, children’s medicine. Unless one of you knows how to make dinner out of bullets an
The first rays of dawn slanted across the countryside, slicing through the gauzy curtains of the safehouse bedroom. Outside, the world felt calm, birds singing, a breeze dancing through tall grass. But inside, Elena felt anything but calm.She sat on the edge of the bed, still in the same clothes from the night before, staring at Draco. He slept deeply, his small fists curled by his head, lashes brushing his pale cheeks. Bruises dotted his delicate arms—ugly reminders of the way one of the masked gunmen had grabbed him in the chaos of their last escape.Every time she looked at those bruises, her heart cracked.Everywhere they went, they were hunted. The villa in Sicily. The penthouse in London. Now this remote safehouse in the hills. No matter how many walls Damien built, no matter how many men Lorenzo stationed around them, someone always found them.Her mind replayed the bloodshed of the ballroom, the shots that ripped through that gilded world; then the convoy attack, and how Drac
The car cut through the night, leaving blood and betrayal in its wake.Elena sat in the backseat, Draco curled against her, his small arms wrapped around her waist as though he could sense her turmoil. His warmth should have soothed her, but it only made the knot in her chest tighten.Damien drove, his grip on the wheel tight enough to crack bone. His knuckles were bloodless, his body a taut coil of barely restrained fury.Nico sat in the passenger seat, silent but alert, his fingers drumming against his thigh in a rare display of agitation.Lorenzo followed in another car, keeping a measured distance.The silence in the vehicle was suffocating, thick with unspoken words and unresolved betrayals.Damien glanced at the rearview mirror again, his gaze flickering between Elena and Draco.She didn’t look at him.She couldn’t.He had saved Draco. She wouldn’t forget that.But trust? That was something else entirely.Draco stirred, his soft, sleepy voice breaking the heavy silence."Mama...
The tension in the safehouse was suffocating.Elena sat on the edge of the bed, the dim glow of her phone screen illuminating her trembling fingers. The messages stared back at her, their meaning sinking in like ice through her veins.Unknown Number: I was loyal to Emilio Devereaux. And he died for secrets you were never supposed to uncover.Unknown Number: Meet me. Alone. I’ll tell you everything.Elena's grip tightened around the device, her mind racing.She knew it was reckless. She knew Damien would never let her go, not now, not when war was brewing on all sides.But she also knew one undeniable truth—if she didn’t get ahead of this, if she didn’t figure out what her father had been hiding, she and Draco would never be safe.She couldn’t keep running.She took a deep breath, forcing herself to steady her shaking hands."This ends tonight," she whispered to herself.And then she moved. Elena waited until the house was quiet. Until exhaustion claimed Damien, Nico, and Lorenzo, the
The convoy sliced through the darkened streets, moving like a phantom in the night. The hum of the engine was steady, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside Elena’s chest. She sat in the backseat of Damien’s car, Draco curled against her, his small body radiating warmth. His fever had broken, exhaustion pulling him into a deep sleep, but Elena was wide awake.Damien’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his fingers tightening every so often as if he were holding back unspoken words. In the passenger seat, Nico lounged with deceptive ease, his gaze flicking to the side mirror every few minutes, always watching. Behind them, Lorenzo followed in another vehicle, his presence an unspoken challenge in the fragile balance between them all.Elena turned toward the window, watching the city lights blur past, her reflection a ghost in the glass. Her mind wouldn’t stop racing—not just from the attack at the gala, not just from the blood spilled on the marble floors—but from the impossible decisio
The night was eerily silent in the safehouse, but Elena couldn’t sleep.She lay in bed, Draco curled against her, his small body rising and falling in deep sleep. She brushed a hand through his curls, whispering a silent promise."I won’t let them take you again."In the other room, Damien, Nico, and Lorenzo were deep in discussion, their voices low and tense.Lorenzo crossed his arms, his expression dark. "You think DeLuca is just going to sit on the ledger? He’s planning something."Nico, leaning against the wall, smirked. "The real question is—how did he find us last time?"Damien’s jaw tightened. The thought had been gnawing at him. "There’s a mole in my organization."Just as he said it, his phone buzzed on the table.It was Matteo.Matteo’s voice was urgent, barely above a whisper. "Boss. You need to move. Now."Damien stood up, already on alert. "Talk.""Someone inside your circle sold you out. DeLuca’s men are coming—tonight."Damien didn’t hesitate. "Get everyone up. We’re le