The estate's walls were quiet, but the silence was brittle, heavy with anticipation. The retreat of Vitale's men earlier had been temporary, a mere shadow of the storm yet to come. Lottie lingered by the greenhouse, hands gripping the cool glass as her mind replayed the day's chaos. Every movement, every plan Gabe had executed, was a precise ballet of violence and strategy—and she had been helpless to act.
Her chest ached with a mix of frustration, fear, and something else she refused to name. The fire inside her still burned, fierce and impatient. She wouldn't be invisible, not anymore. Not if this war demanded she see everything and yet remain still.
A sudden vibration from the estate intercom made her start. Marco's voice came through, clipped, urgent:
"Miss Rossi, you need to come to the study. Now."
Lottie's stomach clenched. "What is it?"
"No time to explain over the comm. Just come. And stay calm."
Calm. A word that felt foreign as she crossed the polished floors, each step echoing like a drumbeat of warning. She pushed open the study door and froze. Gabe was there, standing over the desk, his fingers pressed to a map spread across its surface. Marco flanked him, grim as ever, while two other men from the inner circle adjusted security lines on tablets, eyes sharp.
"What's happening?" she demanded, voice tight.
Gabe didn't answer immediately. He held her gaze, the weight of it pressing against her chest. "Vitale isn't just circling," he said finally, voice low. "He's preparing for something bigger. Something I've been expecting… and dreading."
Lottie swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. "What is it?"
He finally turned to the map, pointing to a cluster of points marked in red two miles from the estate. "This is where he's gathering—reconvening his forces. He's consolidating, and whatever he's planning, it's about to escalate. And this time, it's not just about testing us."
Her stomach dropped. "He's going to attack?"
Gabe's jaw tightened. "He'll try. And he'll come for you first. That's why you're staying inside, and that's why I need everyone prepared. Every exit sealed. Every angle monitored."
Marco interjected, voice clipped. "I've doubled patrols, reinforced walls. Nothing gets past this estate tonight. Nothing."
Gabe's eyes softened for a brief moment, but the hardness returned almost immediately. He glanced at Lottie. "I'm not asking. I'm telling you. You stay here. You don't move. You're… more valuable to him alive than dead, for now. That makes you dangerous, not safe. And I will not let him take you."
Lottie's fingers trembled against the edge of the desk. "You're making me feel like a target instead of a person."
"You are a target," he admitted, his voice rough. "But you're also the reason I keep standing. Never forget that."
The rest of the afternoon passed in tense preparation. Guards patrolled the grounds with military precision, every shadow on the perimeter scanned and rescanned. Lottie remained inside, watching as Gabe coordinated communications, his every gesture commanding obedience. She wanted to be closer, to help, to do something—anything—but she had learned, painfully, that patience was survival.
Hours stretched. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the estate. Darkness brought its own tension, thick and heavy, and the estate transformed from a gilded fortress to a crucible of anticipation.
And then the message arrived.
Marco's voice came over the radio, tense, urgent. "North gate. Two unidentified vehicles approaching. License plates obscured. They're moving fast."
Gabe's head snapped up. His eyes were storm clouds, calculating and deadly. "Positions. Now. Everyone ready?"
"Yes, sir." Marco's voice was taut with controlled panic.
The estate hummed with movement. Guards took stations, weapons readied, sensors activated. Lottie stood in the hallway, heart pounding. Her body trembled not from fear alone, but from adrenaline, anticipation, and a growing awareness that nothing—no walls, no guards—could fully protect her.
The first car came into view, headlights cutting through the night like blades. Gabe's voice cut through the tension. "Engage if they cross the line. Disable, don't kill… unless they force the choice."
Shots rang out—warning, precise, controlled. The driver swerved, a spark of metal against stone, tires screaming. The second vehicle followed, only to be intercepted at the main gate by Marco and two senior guards.
Lottie's breath caught. She had never been so close to violence, so close to death, and yet, so alive. She felt it in her bones: every decision, every step, every flicker of motion outside the estate's walls could end in catastrophe.
And somewhere beyond those lights and shadows, Vitale waited.
When the skirmish paused, Gabe returned to her side, his jacket dusted with dirt, sleeves rolled, eyes ablaze with storm and fire. He placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. "You stayed calm. That's good. That's what keeps us alive."
Lottie's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm tired of surviving. I want… I want answers. About him, about me, about everything."
Gabe's hand tightened, just a fraction. "You want truth," he said slowly. "You want fire. But fire burns everything it touches. Some truths, Lottie… are dangerous. And some fires… can consume you."
Her pulse raced. She had sensed it before—the pull of the unknown, the feeling that the war wasn't just about territory or power. It was about her. Her blood. Her lineage. Something deeper, darker, more inescapable.
"Then let me hold the flame," she whispered. "I'm tired of standing behind walls."
For a moment, Gabe said nothing. His eyes, dark and conflicted, searched hers. Then he stepped closer, voice low, intimate. "You don't know what you're asking."
"I know exactly what I'm asking," she said, standing taller despite the fear and exhaustion.
Hours passed. Night deepened. Vitale's forces tested the estate repeatedly, retreating, regrouping, testing the limits. And each time, Gabe and his men countered, strategy and instinct intertwined like a dance of death.
At one point, Lottie caught a glimpse of movement in the distance—a figure slipping through shadows, lighter than the rest, agile, almost ghostlike. Her stomach twisted. "Gabe… there's someone moving differently."
His gaze snapped to hers, sharp, immediate. "Stay here," he ordered, voice tight. "I'll handle it."
But she didn't move. Something in her—a stubborn, fierce thread of fire—refused to stay behind. She couldn't. Not now.
Before she could take a step, the figure emerged from the shadows, and Lottie's heart froze. It wasn't one of Vitale's standard soldiers. It moved with confidence, purpose, and… recognition.
Gabe appeared behind her in a blur, gun raised, eyes like steel. "Who the hell is that?"
The figure stepped into the light, and Lottie's world tilted. Familiar, yet impossible. Every heartbeat screamed betrayal. Every instinct screamed danger.
"Lottie," the figure said, voice smooth, cold. "It's time you knew the truth."
Gabe's hand dropped slightly toward her, protective, warning, explosive. "Step back," he growled. "No one touches her."
But the figure didn't move. They smiled, slow, deliberate, and in that smile was the promise of devastation.
And Lottie finally understood, deep in her bones, that this war—the fire she had been caught in, the chaos surrounding her—was only just beginning.
Because the next revelation wouldn't just shake the city. It would shatter everything she thought she knew about herself, her family… and her place in the world.