Nowhere is Safe
The world exploded in sound.
The gunshot cracked like lightning, echoing across the mansion's grounds. Lucian dropped low, the bullet grazing his shoulder as hot pain ripped through flesh. He gritted his teeth, refusing to give Carlo the satisfaction of a cry. Blood streamed warm down his arm, soaking into his shirt.
"Boss!" Alessandro shouted, dragging him behind the wreckage of a burning SUV. "You're hit!"
"Not bad enough," Lucian growled, reloading his weapon. His eyes blazed across the smoke-filled courtyard. Carlo stood tall, smiling like a devil, his men pressing forward with renewed fury.
This wasn't just another attack. This was a declaration.
Carlo wanted him broken, bleeding, on his knees.
Lucian spat blood into the dirt. "Not today."
---
Below, in the panic room, Elena held Isabella close, rocking her trembling daughter as muffled explosions shook the steel walls. Her hands shook as she pressed her ear against the door, desperate to hear beyond the gunfire.
On the small security screen, she caught a glimpse of him—Lucian, crouched behind burning metal, his shoulder dripping red. Her stomach dropped.
"No…" Her voice cracked. "Not him. Please, not him."
She kissed Isabella's hair, whispering a prayer she wasn't sure anyone was listening to. "Your papa's strong. He won't let them touch us. He can't."
But as the cameras flickered—one after another cutting to black under Dante's assault—Elena realized something that made her blood run cold.
This room wasn't invincible. Nowhere was.
---
Lucian rose with fury in his veins, his gun barking death into the night. One, two, three bodies fell, but more kept coming. Carlo's laughter carried over the chaos.
"You can't win this, Moretti!" he bellowed. "Dante owns this city now. You're a relic clinging to ashes!"
Lucian snarled, stepping from cover, bullets screaming past his ears. "I built these ashes, and I'll bury you in them!"
He charged forward, a storm in human form. His men rallied at his back, their fear dissolving in the face of his rage. For every wound he took, he dealt tenfold.
But Carlo never flinched. He fired calmly, deliberately, each shot designed to push Lucian closer to the edge of death.
And then, like a dagger to the gut, Lucian realized—this wasn't just an attack. It was bait. Carlo wasn't here to kill him. He was here to distract him.
His eyes snapped toward the mansion.
"Elena," he breathed.
---
Inside the panic room, Elena froze as a sharp beep echoed through the chamber. At first, she thought it was her imagination—then the wall panel flickered, red lights flashing.
The system was being hacked.
"No…" She clutched Isabella tighter, her pulse racing. "They can't get in. They can't—"
But the lock hissed, gears grinding. The room shuddered as something heavy slammed against the steel door.
"Open up, princess," a voice taunted from the other side. "Papa Moretti can't protect you forever."
Elena's blood turned to ice. She recognized that voice. Carlo.
Isabella whimpered. Elena pressed her back into the corner, clutching the pistol Lucian had shoved into her hand hours earlier. She had never fired a gun in her life. But tonight, if it came to it, she would.
For her child. For Lucian.
---
Lucian broke through the last wave of attackers, his chest heaving, his shoulder screaming with pain. He saw it then—the trail of men rushing toward the east wing, toward the hidden staircase that led below.
"Elena!" His roar split the night as he sprinted, Alessandro at his side.
But he was too far.
The mansion shook with another explosion. Flames licked the sky. And from deep within, he heard it—the metallic screech of the panic room door giving way.
---
Elena stood shaking, the pistol raised with trembling hands as the steel door began to cave. A sliver of light cut through the gap. Then a hand reached in, prying it wider.
Her heart pounded. Her breaths came sharp and ragged. She wanted to collapse, to close her eyes and pray this nightmare away.
But then she felt Isabella's tiny fingers clutching her dress, heard her daughter's frightened sobs.
And something inside Elena hardened.
Her fear didn't vanish—it transformed.
She steadied her grip. Her voice was low, trembling but defiant.
"You step in here," she whispered to the door, "and I swear to God, I'll put a bullet in your skull."
Carlo's laugh slid through the crack, oily and cruel. "Just like a Moretti wife. Fire in her voice, but fear in her hands. Let's see if you've got the aim to match."
The door screeched louder. Inch by inch, it opened.
Elena pulled Isabella behind her, standing tall despite her shaking legs. The gun felt impossibly heavy, but she aimed it straight at the widening gap.
And just as the door tore open—
BANG.
The shot echoed through the chamber, deafening in the small space.
Silence followed.
Elena's hands shook violently, her ears ringing. She didn't know if she had hit him, didn't know if he would fall or laugh again.
But in that silence, she prayed she had bought Lucian just enough time.
---
Upstairs, Lucian sprinted, blood trailing behind him, his fury boiling into something primal.
Carlo had touched the one line no man was ever meant to cross.
His family.
And for that, there would be no mercy.