The figure stood in the dim glow of the estate's perimeter lights, unmoving, silent, as if the shadows themselves had taken human form. Lottie's pulse thudded in her ears, drowning out the distant echo of retreating engines. Every instinct screamed danger, yet every fiber of her being was rooted in place.
Gabe's hand remained on her arm, firm, protective, but his eyes—those storm-dark eyes—were sharp, calculating, aware of every possible threat. "Step back," he ordered, voice low but lethal.
"I… I can't," Lottie whispered. The figure, the stranger, moved slightly, tilting their head, the faint light revealing features that chilled her: familiar, yet impossible.
"You know me, Lottie," the figure said, voice calm, deliberate. "You just don't remember."
Lottie's stomach clenched. Recognition flashed—a fragment of memory, a trace of truth she had buried, ignored, convinced herself was just a dream. "No… that's impossible," she breathed.
Gabe's jaw flexed. "Explain yourself. Now." His hand on her arm tightened—not threatening her, but ensuring she stayed alive and unseen by sudden violence.
The figure stepped fully into the light. "You're Caruso, Lottie. All of it—your blood, your mother, your history—it's not what you think. Vitale didn't just choose you because he wants Gabe's power. He chose you because of what you carry in your veins. And that makes you dangerous… to him, to the world, and… even to yourself."
Lottie's hands trembled, gripping the edge of the greenhouse window. "What are you saying?"
The figure smiled, sharp, cold, but not unkind. "I'm saying that your mother—your real mother—was never just someone ordinary. She was… marked. Part of a bloodline Vitale has hunted for decades. And now that you've emerged, fully grown, fully aware, fully alive… he knows the game has changed."
Gabe's eyes darkened to steel. "Step closer," he barked, gun in hand, unwavering. "I don't care who you are. You touch her, you die."
The figure laughed softly. "Oh, I wouldn't dare. Not yet. I'm here to warn her… to prepare her. The rest is up to her."
Lottie's mind raced. Every memory of her mother, every whispered story from childhood, every fragment of a photograph she had stared at endlessly—it all collided. And underneath the fear, underneath the awe, something else emerged: a fierce, undeniable resolve.
"I'm listening," she said, her voice shaking but firm. "Tell me everything."
The figure moved closer, keeping their hands visible, gestures slow and deliberate. "Vitale believes your family died with your mother. But that's not true. You carry the legacy. The bloodline is rare, powerful, and… influential in ways most cannot comprehend. Vitale wants it. He wants you. He believes controlling you means controlling Gabe… and through him, the city. But he doesn't realize—you are not a weapon to be used. You are a force to be reckoned with."
Lottie's mind spun. "Force…? What does that mean?"
"You'll see," the figure said cryptically. "Soon enough. But first, you need to understand him—the man who is both your protector and your danger." Their eyes flicked toward Gabe. "He's not just guarding you out of duty or love. He's guarding the key. The key that Vitale wants… and the one that could destroy everyone if it falls into the wrong hands."
Lottie's stomach tightened. "The key?"
"Yes," the figure whispered. "You are the key, Lottie. And whether you realize it or not, Vitale's obsession with you is personal. Not just strategic. Not just power. Personal. Because somewhere deep inside, he knows your blood could undo him. And he will stop at nothing to possess it—or destroy it."
Gabe's voice broke through, low, deadly. "Enough riddles. Step back."
The figure obeyed, just slightly, enough to show cooperation but still keeping distance. "I am not your enemy. Yet. I am here so that when he comes—Vitale comes—you understand the stakes. You understand what's at risk. And you understand who you really are."
Lottie's mind whirled. All this time, her life had been a fortress of lies, protection, and secrecy. Daniel's death, Vitale's obsession, Gabe's ruthless care—it all began to make a painful, terrifying sense. Her blood, her lineage, her very existence had been a secret worth killing for.
She swallowed, trying to steady her shaking hands. "And… my mother?"
The figure's eyes softened, just a fraction. "She loved you, Lottie. She fought to keep you safe. But she knew Vitale's reach was too long, too deep. That's why she hid the truth. That's why she left you, seemingly abandoned, in the hands of those who could protect you… until the time came for you to awaken to who you really are."
Lottie's throat tightened, a mix of sorrow, anger, and disbelief threatening to overwhelm her. "Awaken…? How am I supposed to do that while everyone is trying to kill me?"
"You survive," the figure said simply. "And when you do, you take what's yours. Vitale believes he can manipulate you. He believes he can own you. He doesn't understand strength, or blood, or legacy. He's about to learn."
A sudden explosion rocked the estate. Glass rattled, alarms screamed, and distant gunfire split the night. Lottie stumbled back, heart hammering, fear and adrenaline colliding in every nerve.
Gabe's reflexes were immediate. He grabbed her arm, pulling her toward cover behind a reinforced wall. His eyes burned into hers, a mix of fury and command. "You stay here. Do not move. Understand?"
"Yes," she whispered, trembling, yet part of her felt… ready.
The figure—still visible in the distance, watching, guiding—nodded once. "Tonight, you will see the first wave. Survive it. Learn from it. And when the time comes, you will remember everything you were meant to inherit."
Outside, Vitale's men advanced again. Shadows darted between alleyways, headlights slicing through the darkness. Gabe's tactical brilliance orchestrated every counter, but even he was tense. He moved with lethal precision, every decision calculated, every strike measured, yet Lottie could see it: the man who was unflinching, unbreakable, was quietly worried. For her.
And she realized, with a jolt, that the fire within her—the bloodline, the inheritance, the legacy—was awakening. It was raw, dangerous, and undeniable.
Her hands clenched. No longer would she be passive. No longer would she be hidden behind walls, glass, and fear. She was Caruso. She was Rossi. She was fire.
And tonight, the war would begin in earnest.
Gabe returned to her side, protective, unyielding. His hand brushed hers—not a gentle touch, but grounding, intimate, unspoken. "You understand?" he demanded softly.
"Yes," she said, voice steady now, fiercer than before. "I understand. And I won't hide. Not anymore."
His eyes darkened, a storm and a promise. "Good. Because Vitale… he doesn't know what he's about to face. And neither does anyone else."
The night stretched on, alive with threat and shadow, but for the first time, Lottie felt something she hadn't in years: a sense of purpose. A sense of power. A sense of herself.
Vitale's obsession would come. The attacks would intensify. And the revelation of her bloodline would not just change the course of her life—it would change everything.
But she was ready. She was awake. She was burning.
And those who underestimated her… would regret it.