Isabella's blood turned to ice. "They're asking for me?" she whispered.
"Move. Now." Matteo's voice was sharp as he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door.
The letters scattered across the floor, all forgotten in the chaos.
"Wait!" Isabella tried to stop. "What about the letters? They're proof that our fathers"
"They'll mean nothing if we're dead," Matteo said with urgency. He shoved the brass key into her hand. "Keep this. We may need it later."
Rafa stepped aside as they rushed past him."Sir," Rafa said quickly, "we have men positioned at all exits. But they came prepared. At least twelve gunmen."
More footsteps thundered through the mansion. Shouting echoed from multiple directions as Isabella's heart hammered so hard she could feel it in her throat.
Twelve men. All here for her. The thought made her legs feel weak. What had her father done that still haunted her twenty years later? What sins was she paying for now?
"How did they get past our security?" Matteo demanded as they hurried down the hallway.
"Someone gave them inside information," Rafa replied grimly. "They knew exactly where to hit us."
A traitor. Just like before. Just like the night her father died. Isabella's chest tightened. History was repeating itself, and she was the target this time. Would she die like her father did betrayed by someone he trusted?
CRASH!
A window exploded somewhere nearby as glass crashed to the floor. Isabella jumped, pressing closer to Matteo's side. His body was solid and warm against hers. For a moment, she felt safe.
But safety was an illusion in this world. She'd learned that lesson too many times. Even her adoptive parents weren't safe because of her. Everyone she loved got hurt.
"The armory," Matteo said suddenly. "We need weapons."
They changed direction, heading toward the basement. Matteo's hand stayed on her back, guiding her. His touch was firm but gentle.
He's protecting me, Isabella realized. Despite everything, despite the danger she'd brought to his door, he was still trying to keep her safe.
Matteo pulled out a key and unlocked a heavy steel door. Inside, racks of guns lined the walls. Isabella had never seen so many weapons in one place.
"Can you shoot?" Matteo asked Isabella. He grabbed an assault rifle with practiced ease.
"I... I don't know," she stammered.
But deep down, something stirred. A memory she couldn't quite reach. Her father's hands guiding hers. The weight of metal. The smell of gunpowder. A younger voice saying, "Good girl, Isabella. Just like that." Maybe she did know.
"Here." He handed her a smaller pistol. "Point and pull the trigger. It's that simple."
Isabella's hands shook as she took the gun. It felt cold and heavy in her hands. Yet familiar. Why did holding it feel like coming home to something she'd tried to forget? Her fingers found the grip naturally, thumb finding the safety without thinking.
"You sure you don't know how to shoot?" Matteo asked, watching her handle the weapon.
"I'm not sure about anything anymore," Isabella whispered.
"Stay behind us," Rafa instructed. He was loading his weapon with quick, efficient movements. "Don't shoot unless you have to."
Don't shoot unless you have to. But what if she had to? Could she actually pull the trigger? Could she take someone's life to save her own?
They moved back upstairs. The mansion had gone quiet. Too quiet. The silence felt heavy, like the air before a storm.
"Where are they?" Isabella whispered.
"Waiting," Matteo replied. "They want us to make the first move."
They crept through the hallway as Matteo gestured for them to stop at a corner. He peered around it carefully. Isabella held her breath.
"Three men in the main hall," he whispered. "Two by the front door. One by the stairs." Five men between them and freedom Isabella thought as her grip tightened on the gun.
"I'll take the stairs," Rafa said quietly.
"You handle the door," Matteo replied.
"What about me?" Isabella asked.
"You stay here until we clear them out."
"No." Isabella's voice was stronger than she felt. "I'm not hiding while you fight."
She was tired of hiding, tired of running from shadows and memories, tired of being weak and helpless while others fought her battles. Maybe it was time to face them head-on.
Matteo looked like he wanted to argue. His dark eyes searched her face, looking for doubt or fear. But gunfire erupted from somewhere upstairs. They were out of time.
"Stay low," he ordered. "Follow my lead."
Trust him. The thought came without hesitation. Despite everything, despite all the reasons she shouldn't, she trusted Matteo De Luca with her life.
They moved into the main hall as three men spotted them immediately. Isabella saw their faces cold, professional. They weren't here to negotiate.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Gunfire exploded through the space as Isabella ducked behind a marble pillar. Bullets chipped away at the stone, sending dust and fragments raining down on her head. The sound was deafening.
Matteo rolled behind a couch, firing as he moved. His movements were fluid, practiced. He'd done this before.
BANG! BANG!
One of the attackers cried out and fell. Blood spread across the marble floor. Isabella watched without flinching.
Rafa took out the man by the stairs with a clean shot to the chest. The sound echoed through the hall.
The third man turned his gun toward Isabella. She saw his finger tighten on the trigger as time slowed. She could see the hatred in his eyes, the cold determination.
Move. Shoot. Survive. The commands echoed in her mind like muscle memory she didn't know she had. Like her father's voice whispering in her ear. Without thinking, she raised her pistol. Her hand was steady now. BANG!
She fired as the man stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers. Matteo finished him with another shot.
"Nice work," Matteo said while breathing hard.
Isabella stared at the gun in her hands. She had actually shot someone. The reality of it hit her like a punch to the stomach.
"Isabella." Matteo's voice was gentle now. "You did what you had to do."
Before she could respond, more gunfire came from upstairs. Then screaming. Then silence felt final.
"Our men are handling the rest," Rafa reported, checking his phone. "The building is almost secure."