He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was scorching. Sophie forgot how to breathe.
“But don’t worry,” Lorenzo whispered, leaning down so his lips were inches from hers. “I am a very possessive spider. I don’t let anyone touch what is mine.”
The air crackled with tension. Sophie’s heart pounded. She wanted to run. She wanted to lean in.
Suddenly, the kitchen door burst open.
“Sir.”
It was Silas. His gun was drawn.
“Perimeter breach, sector 4.”
Lorenzo’s demeanor changed instantly. The tired man vanished. The don appeared. His eyes went cold, his posture rigid.
“Where?” Lorenzo barked, pulling a sleek black handgun from the waistband of his trousers.
“The delivery entrance. They used a fake courier van.”
“Secure my mother,” Lorenzo ordered, grabbing Sophie’s arm. “You come with me. I’m not leaving you out of my sight.”
“But Toby,” Sophie screamed.
“Silas has Toby. Move.”
Lorenzo dragged Sophie out of the kitchen as automatic gunfire erupted in the hallway.
Chaos engulfed the mansion. The alarms blared, a deafening high-pitched wail. Lorenzo shoved Sophie into the library and kicked the heavy oak door shut, locking it. He pushed a massive bookshelf in front of it with inhuman strength.
“Stay down,” he commanded, forcing her behind the solid mahogany desk.
“What is happening?” Sophie cried, covering her ears as gunfire echoed just outside the door.
“An assassination attempt,” Lorenzo said calmly, checking the magazine of his gun. “The Salvaros. They shouldn’t have been able to get inside the gates. Someone let them in.”
His eyes darkened with fury.
“Someone on my payroll sold me out.”
The door handle rattled violently. Then bullets began to chew through the wood, sending splinters flying.
“Lorenzo!”
“Quiet,” he hissed.
He moved to the side of the door and waited.
The wood gave way, and the door was kicked open. A man in tactical gear and a balaclava stormed in. Lorenzo moved like a viper. He grabbed the gunman’s barrel, twisted it up, and fired 2 shots into the man’s chest. The intruder dropped.
Two more men entered. Lorenzo took cover behind a leather armchair and returned fire. One man fell. The other ducked behind a sofa.
“Give it up, Moretti!” the gunman shouted. “We have the boy!”
The blood drained from Sophie’s face. She stood up from behind the desk.
“No!”
“Sophie, get down!” Lorenzo roared.
“We have the kid!” the gunman yelled. “Come out, or we bleed him.”
Sophie did not think. Instinct took over. She saw a heavy bronze bust of Julius Caesar on the desk and grabbed it. While the gunman was focused on Lorenzo’s position, Sophie hurled the bust with all her strength. It sailed over the sofa and struck the gunman squarely in the head with a sickening thud.
He collapsed without a sound.
Lorenzo stood, staring at her in shock.
“You—”
“They have Toby,” Sophie panted, grabbing the gun from the dead man on the floor.
She did not know how to use it, but her hands were shaking with rage, not fear.
“Where is he?”
Lorenzo looked at her, stunned by the girl who cried over flowers now holding a semi-automatic weapon with the ferocity of a lioness.
“Follow me,” he said. “Stay close.”
They moved into the hallway. The bodies of Lorenzo’s guards lay on the floor. The air smelled of cordite and blood.
They reached the main staircase. Below, in the foyer, 3 men were holding Toby. One had a knife to the boy’s throat. Toby was crying, his face bruised. Isabella was there too, cowering on the stairs, screaming.
“Let him go, bad men. Go away.”
“Drop the gun, Moretti,” the leader of the intruders shouted.
He was a scarred man Sophie recognized from the news: Marco Salvaro, the rival don’s son.
Lorenzo stopped at the top of the stairs. He held his gun up, showing his palms.
“Let the boy go, Marco. This is between us.”
“The boy dies,” Marco sneered. “Then the maid. Then you.”
“Wait.”
Sophie stepped out from behind Lorenzo.
“Sophie, no,” Lorenzo shouted.
