The Price of Survival

The explosion threw me against the wall. The sound was so loud it felt like my head was splitting open. Dust and bits of glass showered down on my hair, and for a second, I couldn't breathe. Through the smoke, I saw Alessandro. He hadn’t fallen. He stood like a mountain, his gun already drawn and pointed at the door.

"Stay down!" he roared.

I scrambled behind his heavy oak desk, my heart hammering so hard I thought it would burst. Outside, the world had turned into a nightmare. Rapid gunfire ripped through the air, the sharp pop-pop-pop of rifles echoing through the hallways of the estate.

"Is it Marco?" I choked out, my voice thick with dust. "Did Bianca send them?"

"She didn't just send them. She gave them the security codes," Alessandro hissed. He checked the hallway, then turned back to me. His eyes were cold, but there was a flicker of something else fury. "Your sister just signed your death warrant, Serena. They aren't here for me. They’re here to erase the evidence of their betrayal. That means you."

I looked at the silver dagger still lying on the desk. My hands shook. I had spent my whole life being the quiet girl. I was the girl who fixed the hem on Bianca's dresses and stayed out of the way. I didn't know how to be a weapon.

"I can't do this, Alessandro. I'm just De Luca. I'm not a killer."

"Then you’re a corpse," he snapped. He grabbed my arm and pulled me up. He didn't do it gently. He shoved the dagger into my hand. "The Vitelli men are already in the foyer. My guards are holding them off, but we need to get to the safe room. If you see anyone who isn't me, you use that blade. Do you understand?"

I looked at the sharp, gleaming edge of the knife. I gripped the handle until my knuckles turned white. I thought about Bianca’s voice on the phone. Deal with it. She had left me to die. She was probably drinking champagne with Marco Vitelli right now while I was covered in soot and blood.

The sadness in my chest suddenly turned into a hot, burning spark. It was anger. For the first time in my life, I didn't want to hide. I wanted to fight back.

"I understand," I whispered.

"Good. Stay behind me."

We moved out into the hallway. The lights were flickering, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. The smell of gunpowder was everywhere bitter and metallic. We reached the top of the grand staircase when the doors below burst open.

Three men in tactical gear stormed in. They weren't wearing masks. They didn't care if we saw their faces because they didn't plan on leaving any witnesses.

"There he is!" one of them shouted.

Alessandro didn't hesitate. He fired three times. Two men dropped instantly. The third dove behind a marble pillar, returning fire. Bullets whined past my ear, shattering a vase behind me.

"Go! To the left!" Alessandro shoved me toward a side door.

I ran, the silk of my wedding dress catching on my heels. I ripped the fabric, tearing a long strip away so I could move faster. I ducked into a small serving pantry, my breath coming in jagged gasps.

I waited, listening to the chaos. Silence for a heartbeat. Then, the sound of heavy boots.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Someone was in the room with me. I tucked myself into the darkest corner, holding the dagger against my chest. My pulse was a drum in my ears.

"I know you're in here, little bride," a voice sneered. It was a rough, oily sound. "Marco said we could have some fun with you before we finish the job. He said you were the pretty, quiet one."

I saw his shadow first. He was huge. He held a silenced pistol in one hand and a flashlight in the other. The beam of light swept across the room, getting closer and closer to my boots.

I had a choice. I could beg for mercy, or I could take my life into my own hands.

As the light hit my face, the man grinned. He lowered his gun, thinking I was an easy target. He reached out to grab my hair.

"Gotcha."

I didn't think so. I acted. I lunged forward, using all my weight. I didn't aim for his chest; I aimed for the gap in his armor at his neck, just like Alessandro had shown me in the office.

The blade sank in with a sickening squelch.

The man’s eyes went wide. He tried to speak, but only a wet, gurgling sound came out. He dropped his gun, clutching at his throat. He fell to his knees, staring at me in shock. I didn't let go of the knife until he slumped over, his blood staining the white lace of my sleeves.

I stood there, shaking, my hands covered in red. I had done it. I had killed a man.

The door to the pantry swung open. I raised the knife, ready to strike again, but it was Alessandro. He looked at the body on the floor, then at me. A slow, grim smile touched his lips.

"Welcome to the family, Serena," he said.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me out into the hall. But as we reached the balcony, a voice boomed from the foyer below. It was a voice I recognized. A voice that made my skin crawl.

"Alessandro! Stop!"

We looked down. Standing in the middle of the wreckage was my father. He wasn't a prisoner. He was standing next to Marco Vitelli, and he was holding a detonator in his hand.

"Serena, honey, come down here," my father said, his voice shaking with fake kindness. "Marco has offered us a better deal. We don't need the Morettis anymore."

I looked at Alessandro. He looked back at me, his eyes searching for mine. He didn't say a word. He was waiting to see whose side I was truly on.

I looked at my father the man who sold me. Then I looked at the blood on my hands.

"The deal is over, Dad," I shouted down, my voice ringing with a strength I didn't know I had.

I turned to Alessandro and grabbed the gun from his waistband. Before anyone could react, I aimed at the man who had raised me and pulled the trigger.