Isabella was on her feet in an instant, her hand on her gun. "Everyone stay calm," she said. "Alessandro, Enzo—with me. We'll get to the door. Clara, get the bosses into the safe room downstairs."
They moved quickly. Clara led the panicked men down a hidden staircase to a reinforced room beneath the villa, while Isabella, Alessandro, and Enzo took positions at the front entrance. The sound of engines roared outside—trucks, motorcycles, the screech of tires on asphalt.
"They're surrounding the place," Enzo said, peering out the window. "Twenty, maybe thirty men. All armed."
Alessandro tested his leg—still sore, but strong enough to fight. "We can't hold them off forever," he said. "Isabella, can you get a signal out? Call the reinforcements from last time."
"Already on it," she said, tapping her phone. "But they'll take ten minutes. We have to buy time."
Just then, the first shot rang out, shattering a window. Enzo fired back, hitting a man in the shoulder. More shots followed, and the three of them ducked behind a wall, returning fire as best they could.
Downstairs, in the safe room, Clara looked at Marcus. "Your warehouse—what's there?" she asked.
"Nothing important," he said, his voice tight. "Just supplies."
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Lies again, Marcus? If it was nothing, they wouldn't risk attacking you here. Tell me the truth."
He sighed, running a hand through his gray hair. "It's a cache of weapons," he said. "Salvatore left it there before he died. I was going to take it for myself—build my own army."
Clara nodded. "So that's why they're here. They want the weapons. To finish what Salvatore started."