CHAPTER FIVE

THE COLLISION

SOFIA POV

The car flips.

Glass explodes. Metal screams. My head slams against something hard.

Then everything stops.

I’m upside down. Seatbelt cutting into my chest. Blood dripped from my hairline.

“Sofia.” Alessio’s voice. Rough. Urgent. “Can you move?”

I will try. Everything hurts.

“I think so.”

He cuts my seatbelt. Catch me before I fall. We crawl out through the shattered window.

Nikolai’s already out. Gun drawn. Bleeding from his temple.

“They’re coming,” he says.

The three SUVs screech to a stop. Doors open. Men pour out.

Not Luca’s men. These are different. Tattooed. Military precision.

Russians.

The leader steps forward. Tall. Scarred face. Dead eyes.

“Alessio Volkov,” he says. Heavy accent. “Your father sends his regards.”

I freeze.

Alessio goes completely still beside me.

“My father is dead.”

The Russian smiles. “Is he?”

What?

“He faked his death fifteen years ago,” the man continues. “Went into hiding. Built a new empire in Moscow.” He gestures to his men. “And now he wants his son back. Dead or alive.”

Alessio’s face is stone. But I feel him trembling.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” The Russian pulls out a phone. Shows a photo.

 An older man. Alessio’s eyes. Same sharp jaw.

Alive.

“He knew you’d never leave Los Angeles willingly,” the Russian says. “So he sent us to collect you. And kill anyone who gets in the way.”

He aims his gun at me.

“Starting with your whore.”

Alessio moves.

Fast. Faster than I’ve ever seen anyone move.

He tackles me. The bullet hits the car behind us.

Then Nikolai opens fire.

_ _ _ _ _ 

ALESSIO POV

We’re outnumbered ten to one.

I grab Sofia. Drag her behind an overturned van. Bullets ping off metal.

“Stay down,” I ordered.

“What’s happening? Your father is alive?”

“Not now.”

I lean out. Fire three shots. Two hits. One Russian drops.

Nikolai’s pinned behind a dumpster. Reloading.

This is bad. We need backup.

My phone’s shattered. Nikolai’s is in the car.

Sofia grabs my arm. “There.” She points. “Warehouse. Back entrance.”

Smart girl.

“Can you run?”

She nods.

“On three. One…”

Gunfire erupts. Closer now.

“TWO…”

A grenade lands five feet away.

“RUN!”

We sprint. The explosion throws us forward. My ears ring. Smoke everywhere.

Sofia stumbles. I caught her. Keep moving.

We crash through the warehouse door.

Inside, it’s dark. Empty. Echoes of our breathing.

“This way.” I pull her deeper into the shadows.

We found a storage room. I shove a metal shelf against the door.

Sofia collapses against the wall. Breathing hard. Her shirt’s torn. Blood on her arm.

“You’re hurt.”

“Just a scratch.” She looks up at me. “Your father. He’s really alive?”

I lean against the wall. Slide down beside her.

“Apparently.”

“Why would he fake his death?”

“Because someone tried to kill him. He thought it was the Vecchios.” I laugh. Bitter. “I’ve spent fifteen years planning revenge for a murder that never happened.”

“So everything…”

“Everything was a fucking lie?.” I stood in disbelief .

“My whole life. Built on a lie.”

Sofia reaches out for my hand. Gentle.

“I’m sorry.”

I look at her. This girl who’s lost everything because of me. Her family. Her freedom. Her safety.

“You should hate me.”

“I should.” She shifts closer. “But I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the first person who’s ever made me feel free.” Her eyes meet mine. “Even trapped with you feels less like a cage than home ever did.”

Something in my chest cracks.

I cup her face. Kiss her.

Not rough this time. Not claiming. Just… desperate.

She kisses back. Her hands were held tight on my shirt.

“We’re probably going to die tonight,” I whispered against her lips.

“I know.”

“Any regrets?”

She pulls back. Look at me. Really looks.

“Just one.” Her hand slides down my chest. Lower. “That we wasted time playing games when we could have been doing this.”

Heat floods through me.

“Sofia”

“Make me forget.” She straddles my lap. “The guns. The blood. My brother. Your father. All of it.” Her hips roll against me. “Please, Daddy. Make me feel something besides fear.”

It's really tough for me.

“Here? Now?”

“Especially here. Especially now.”

I grab her hips. Grind her against me. She gasps.

“Someone could come.”

“Then we better be fast.”

I flip us. Pin her under me. Undo her jeans with shaking hands.

“This is insane.”

“Good.” She arches up. 

I took her jeans down. She’s already wet.

“No foreplay,” she breathes. “Just you. Inside me. Now.”

I undo my belt. Free myself. Line up.

“Look at me.”

She does.

I push in. Slow. Watching her face. Her mouth opens. Eyes flutter.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Like that. Exactly like that.”

I start moving. Deep. Steady. Trying to be quiet but it’s impossible. She feels too good. Tight. Perfect.

She wraps her legs around me. Pulls me deeper.

“Harder.”

I oblige. Faster now. The shelf rattles with each thrust.

Her nails dig into my back. She bites her lip to keep from screaming.

“Come for me,” I growl in her ear. “Come on my cock, baby. Show me you’re mine.”

She breaks. Shaking. Pulsing around me. I cover her mouth with my hand. Muffle her cries.

I followed seconds later. Groaning into her neck. Filling her. Claiming her. Sealing whatever this is between us.

We collapse. Sweaty. Breathing hard.

Outside, footsteps.

We freeze.

Voices. Russian.

“Check the warehouse. They came in here.”

Sofia’s eyes go wide.

I pull out carefully. We both scramble to dress.

The footsteps get closer.

I grab my gun. Three bullets left.

The door handle moves.

Sofia holds onto my hand.

The door crashes open.

But it’s not Russians.

It’s Luca.

Blood soaked. Shoulder wrapped. Eyes wild.

He takes in the scene. Me. Sofia. Her disheveled clothes. The obvious aftermath.

His face is filled with rage.

“You just fucked him.” Not a question. A realization. “While I’m out there bleeding. While our family’s at war. You’re in here fucking him.”

“Luca”

“SHUT UP.” He aims his gun at me. Hand shaking. “I’m going to kill you. Slow. Make you watch while I..”

He doesn’t finish.

Because someone shoots him from behind.

Luca drops.

Standing in the doorway, the gun still raised.

Gianna.

My cousin. My best friend. Who’s supposed to be at home? Safe.

“Gianna?” I can barely breathe. “What are you?”

“Saving your ass. Obviously.” She lowers the gun. Look at Luca’s body. “Is he dead?”

Alessio checks. “No. Unconscious. The vest stopped the bullet but the impact knocked him out.”

“Good.” Gianna looks at me. “We need to go. Now. Russians are sweeping the building.”

“How did you find us?”

“Tracked your phone’s last location.” She tosses me a new phone. “And brought backup.”

“Backup?”

The sound of helicopters. Loud. Close.

Gianna smirks. “FBI. I called them. Told them about the weapons deal. The Vecchio operations. Everything.”

My jaw drops. “You what?”

“Your brother’s been running guns for years, Sofia. Someone had to stop him.” She grabs my arm. “Come on. We have maybe two minutes before everyone here gets arrested.”

Alessio looks at me. “Do you trust her?”

I look at Gianna. Really look.

She’s wearing tactical gear. Has a gun. Looks completely calm.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

She smiles. Sad. “I’m sorry I lied. But I’m DEA. Been undercover in your family for three years.”

The room spins.

“You’re… you’ve been lying to me for three years?”

“To protect you.” She pulls me toward the door. “I’ll explain everything. But first we need to go. Now.”

Sirens. Shouts. Chaos outside.

Alessio grabs my other arm. “We run together. All three of us.”

We sprint through the warehouse. Russians on one side. FBI on the other hand. Luca’s men scattered. Everything is collapsing.

We burst out the side door.

A helicopter waits. Gianna’s backup.

We climbed in. The pilot lifts off.

Below, the harbor erupts in gunfire. Arrests. Explosions.

I watch it all burn.

My old life. My family. Everything.

Gone.

Alessio pulls me close. I collapsed against him.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

Gianna looks back. “Safe house. Federal protection. Until we can sort this mess out.”

“And then?”

She doesn’t answer.

The helicopter banks hard.

I look out the window.

And see a fourth SUV. Follow us.

On the side, in gold letters: VOLKOV.

My blood runs cold.

“Alessio.” I point.

He sees it. His face goes pale.

“He really is alive,” he whispers.

The SUV stops. A man gets out.

Even from this height, I can see the resemblance.

Alessio’s father.

Alive.

And looking right up at us.

He raises something. Points it at the helicopter.

“ROCKET LAUNCHER!” the pilot screams.

The missile fires.

Everything goes white.