Chapter 5-Serafina's POV

The first bullet shattered the chandelier.

Crystal rained down like knives as guests screamed and scattered. I dragged the maid behind me, heels slipping on polished marble now slick with spilled wine and panic. 

The orchestra vanished into chaos. Men shouted orders in Italian. Somewhere behind us, Luca roared my name.

“Left,” Matteo barked. He slammed a guard into the wall, seized the man’s gun, and fired without breaking stride. The shot echoed through the corridor, sharp and final. 

I didn’t look back. We burst through a service door into a narrow passage lit by flickering fluorescents. The maid sobbed, struggling to keep up.

“Keep moving,” I said, breath tearing out of me. “Don’t stop.”

Gunfire followed.

Not warning shots.

Kill shots.

Matteo shoved us ahead of him, taking the rear, firing backward with terrifying precision. He didn’t hesitate. I didn't miss it. This wasn’t rebellion, this was survival

“Where are we going?” I shouted.

“The old wine tunnels,” he replied. “If they’re not sealed.”

A guard rounded the corner ahead.

Matteo shot him before he could raise his weapon. The body hit the floor hard. I stepped over it without thinking.

That scared me more than the blood.

We reached the stairwell. Matteo kicked the door open, ushering us down. Alarms blared overhead, red lights flashing. 

The sound of boots thundered from above.

Halfway down, the maid stumbled. I caught her arm. She looked at me like I was a miracle. Like I was death.

“I didn’t mean to” she sobbed.

“I know,” I said. “Move.”

At the bottom, Matteo slammed his shoulder into a rusted steel door. It groaned, then gave way. Cold air rushed 4-4+/out, thick with damp stone and age.

The wine tunnels. Rows of old barrels lined the narrow passage, dust and cobwebs clinging to them like ghosts. 

The smell was sharp and sour. We ran.

Behind us, the door burst open.

“Split,” Matteo ordered. “Now.”

“What?” I protested.

He grabbed my arm, pulling me close. “If they catch all three of us, we’re dead.”

My chest seized. “I’m not leaving you.”

His eyes locked onto mine hard, fierce, unyielding.

“You already chose,” he said. “Now trust me.”

He turned to the maid. “Follow the tunnel until you see daylight. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”

The maid hesitated, then ran. I grabbed Matteo’s hand. “You’re not doing this alone.”

He squeezed once. Hard. “I am.” Then he shoved me sideways into a narrow side passage and slammed a barrel across the opening.

Gunfire erupted. Matteo disappeared into smoke and echoing shots.

“No—!” I tried to climb over the barrel.

A hand clamped over my mouth. I screamed into it.

Vittorio Moretti dragged me into the shadows.

“Quiet,” he hissed. “Unless you want Luca to find you first.”

Rage exploded through me. I slammed my elbow into his ribs. He grunted but didn’t let go.

“Matteo is buying us time,” Vittorio said sharply. “Don’t waste it.”

“He’ll die,” I spat.

“Yes,” Vittorio said. “If we fail.”

He released me, moving fast now. “This way.”

We ran through the tunnels, boots splashing through shallow water. The sounds of pursuit split, scattering in different directions.

“You planned this,” I accused between breaths.

“I planned contingencies,” Vittorio replied. “You exceeded expectations.”

That wasn’t comforting. We emerged into a cellar beneath an abandoned vineyard. 

Night air hit my lungs, sharp and alive. Vittorio slammed the door shut behind us and shoved a heavy crate into place.

Silence.

For a heartbeat.

Then gunshots echoed underground.

I spun on him. “Where is he?”

“Fighting,” Vittorio said. “As expected.”

My hands shook. 

“If he dies—”

“He won’t,” Vittorio interrupted. “Not yet. Luca won’t kill him quickly.”

That landed like a punch. “Because he wants me.”

“Yes,” Vittorio said simply. “And because Matteo knows too much.” Sirens wailed in the distance. 

Not the police. 

Luca’s men.

Vittorio pulled out his phone. “It’s time.”

“For what?” “To turn the city against him.”

He handed me the flash drive again. 

“These accounts tie Luca to international weapons shipments and judges he paid off. Enough to fracture his alliances.”

“And you’re giving it to me because…?”

“Because Luca won’t suspect you,” Vittorio said. 

“He still thinks you’re breaking.”

I laughed, hysterical and sharp. “He made me hold a knife to an innocent woman.”

“And you dropped it,” Vittorio said. “That’s why this works.”

He opened the trunk of a car parked in the shadows. Inside were clothes. Weapons. Cash. “Choose,” he said. “Run or rule.”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Rule,” I said.

Something like approval flickered across his face. Before we could move, headlights cut through the trees.

Too close.

“Down,” Vittorio snapped.

We ducked behind the car as vehicles roared into the clearing. Doors slammed. Men shouted.

Luca’s voice carried through the night.

“She’s here.”

My blood froze.

Footsteps crunched closer.

Vittorio leaned toward me. “If this goes wrong, you run. You don’t stop.”

“I’m not leaving Matteo.”

Vittorio’s jaw tightened. “Then don’t miss your shot.”

A guard appeared around the hood. I fired.

The recoil jolted up my arm. The guard dropped instantly.

Shouts erupted. 

Gunfire answered.

Vittorio returned fire, moving with practiced ease. We fell back toward the trees, bullets tearing bark and dirt around us.

Then I saw him.

Matteo emerged from the tunnel entrance, blood streaking his sleeve, eyes locked on me. 

Alive.

Relief nearly dropped me to my knees.

Luca stepped out behind him, gun trained on Matteo’s back.

“Enough,” Luca called. “Drop your weapons.”

Matteo didn’t move.

Luca smiled. “You always were predictable.”

He shifted the gun slightly, aiming not at Matteo.

At me.

“Choose,” Luca said calmly. “Come back to me, Serafina. Or watch him die.”

Everything narrowed.

The noise. 

The men. 

The guns.

All gone.

Matteo shook his head once.

Don’t.

I raised my gun.

Not at Luca.

At the fuel tank behind him.

I fired.

The explosion lit the night. Fire tore through the clearing. Men screamed. Luca was thrown backward, disappearing into smoke and flame.

The blast knocked me off my feet.

Hands grabbed me. Pulle

d me up.

“Move!” Matteo shouted.

We ran. Behind us, the De Santis estate burned.

And somewhere in the chaos, Luca De Santis survived.

I knew it.

Because this war had just begun.