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Chapter 3

Author: Bunnykoo
last update Last Updated: 2025-11-21 02:21:41

The relative quiet of the afternoon was shattered not by an explosion, but by a sudden, brutal disruption of the atmosphere. Luna was seated in the library, a vast, imposing room where the thick walls usually offered a deceptive sense of insulation. Rocco Santini, her primary, trusted bodyguard, stood near the towering arched doorway, his posture rigid, his loyalty a fragile barrier between her and the volatile world outside.

The quiet routine was suddenly poisoned. The low hum of the city traffic, usually a constant background drone, abruptly stopped. Rocco felt the shift instantly. His body tensed, the subtle movement the only warning Luna received. His hand dropped to grip the sidearm holstered beneath his jacket.

Luna felt the change physically, a prickling coldness that traveled from her scalp down her spine. The fear was immediate and absolute. Her mind screamed Something is wrong! but the paralyzing grip of her trauma was already closing off her response. She remained frozen in her chair.

Rocco peered out, his face etched with mounting concern. He spun back, his voice low, urgent, and strained. "Signora, stay down! Move to the fireplace!"

The command was useless. Luna could not move. The trauma response was total: a visceral, paralyzing stillness. The pressure in her throat intensified, a painful physical acknowledgment of her inability to cry out.

Outside, the silence gave way to a calculated, external breach. A muffled, explosive thump rattled the thick windows, followed by the immediate, chilling sound of glass shattering from a distant wing of the mansion.

Rocco cursed and grabbed his transmitter, shouting into it: "Intrusion! West perimeter breach! Vitiello residence, I need backup! Now!"

The double doors of the library, heavy oak reinforced with steel, suddenly shuddered violently. The wood groaned, splitting near the center seam. The deliberate targeting confirmed the intruders knew exactly who they were after.

Luna’s wide eyes flickered between the terrifyingly warped door and Rocco’s face. He was loyal, but his terror was visible.

The doors burst inward with a sickening crack, ripped from their hinges. Standing in the broken doorway were two figures, large, masked, and armed with brutal, calculated efficiency.

Rocco opened fire instantly. Books exploded off shelves as bullets tore through pages and leather spines. The air filled with the sharp, metallic stench of gunpowder.

Luna ducked her head, but she couldn't scream, she couldn't move. She could only shake, her small frame convulsing with silent terror. The paralysis was complete.

Rocco took cover, providing covering fire. One of the masked men moved with practiced, terrifying speed, ignoring Rocco and focusing solely on Luna's position. He had clear access to the prize.

At that critical moment, coordinated fire erupted from the foyer as security forces finally arrived. The man closest to Luna cursed violently and initiated an extraction signal.

"Signora! Now!" Rocco shouted, abandoning the direct firefight to lunge desperately toward her.

The masked man, realizing his capture window was closing, focused his weapon on the ceiling near Luna’s location and fired a single, calculated shot. The plaster exploded outward. A heavy chunk of plaster and decorative molding tore free and struck Luna's head and shoulder as she was trying to duck. The pain was immediate, sharp, and blinding. She slumped, the physical trauma overriding the fear, her face contorted in a silent grimace of pain. No sound, not even a gasp, escaped her sealed throat.

Rocco reached her and pulled Luna, limp and shaking, from the chair. "They're running! Clear the room!" he shouted, covering her trembling body with his own as the Don’s backup swarmed the library.

Don Dario Vitiello arrived moments later with Dante Bellomo at his heels. The Don ignored the chaos and went straight for Luna, who was weeping silent tears of shock and trauma, her cheek already beginning to swell into a bruise from the debris. His public persona clicked back into place, the concerned, loving father.

"My angel. My brave, silent angel," he cooed, wiping the tears from her cheeks with a hand that was not gentle but controlling. He looked up at Rocco, his eyes glacial. "You failed, Rocco. They got too close. This animal targets my treasure."

He stood, his gaze sweeping over the chaos.

"Rocco is no longer sufficient. This animal is too professional. I need a different kind of protector."

He turned, his voice lowering to a hard, decisive edge, his eyes burning with frantic, cold resolve. "I will not tolerate another breach. I need someone who never fails, who operates without sentiment. I will find a professional who never fails for her protection."

Luna watched her father's perfect performance through swollen, tear-filled eyes. The terror of the attack was now replaced by the paralyzing dread of the new, unknown shadow arriving soon, a man without sentiment, invited in to claim her.

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