Chapter 4 - THE SILENT INTRUSION
I didn't run for the gates. If I ran, the guards at the perimeter would either shoot me or I’d be captured, and by the time Dante realized what was happening, his daughters would be dead.
I had to get back inside.
I crept toward the kitchen entrance, my heart in my throat. The door was slightly ajar. On the floor of the pantry, another guard lay motionless, a puddle of dark blood pooling around his head. He had been taken out silently, from behind.
A professional job.
I slipped past him, my stomach turning. I grabbed a heavy brass candleholder from the dining room sideboard—it was a pathetic weapon against men with suppressed pistols, but it was better than empty hands.
The grand staircase was a mountain of shadows. I climbed it step by step, keeping my weight to the outer edges of the wooden steps to prevent them from creaking.
The silence of the house was suffocating. It felt like walking through a mausoleum.
As I reached the second floor, I heard a muffled sound from the end of the hallway—near Dante’s private study.
"Where is she?" a low, harsh voice hissed. It wasn't Dante. It was a voice with a thick, eastern-European accent. "The boss said she was locked in the basement. We need to clear the basement before we take the kids."
"Forget the girl," another voice replied, hushed but urgent. "The father is the target. We plant the device in his study, take the kids as leverage, and we're out. The girl in the basement is just a bonus if we have time. The client wants her dead anyway—no Rossi blood left standing."
My breath hitched.
The client.
They weren't just here for Dante. They knew who I was.
"Viktor said the basement is locked," the first voice continued. "He’s upstairs with Moretti now, checking the perimeter. We have three minutes."
Viktor.
My blood ran cold. Viktor was the one who had told Dante about my brother’s phone call. Viktor was the one who had urged Dante to lock me up.
The head of security was the traitor.
I pulled back into the shadow of a heavy velvet curtain as two men in black tactical gear slipped out of Dante's study and headed toward the back stairs—the stairs leading down to the basement. They were going to kill me.
But more importantly, they had left the path to the nursery open.
I didn't hesitate. I abandoned the brass candleholder—it would only slow me down—and bolted up the narrow, winding stairs to the third floor.
The nursery door was closed.
I pushed it open slowly, my heart hammering.
The room was pitch black, just as I had left it. But the air was cold. The window was open, the sheer curtains billowing in the night wind like ghosts.
"Mia? Sofia?" I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
No answer.
I crept toward the bed. My foot hit something soft and wet. I reached down, my hand brushing against leather and wool.
A body.
I gasped, pulling my hand back, my fingers wet with blood. I reached for the light switch, but remembered my own rule. In the light, you can see the monsters. In the dark, you can hide.
I dropped to my knees, crawling toward the bed.
"Mia... Sofia..."
A small, trembling hand reached out from beneath the heavy bed skirt, wrapping around my wrist.
"Clara?" a tiny voice whispered. It was Sofia.
"I'm here, baby," I breathed, pulling myself under the bed.
The two little girls were curled up together in the farthest corner, clutching a pair of stuffed rabbits. Their eyes were wide with terror, but they weren't screaming. They were staring at me with a trust that broke my heart.
"Bad men," Mia whispered, her voice shaking. "They came with guns. They hurt Marcus."
Marcus was the guard who had been stationed at their door.
"I know, sweethearts. I know," I whispered, pulling them both into my arms. "But I'm here now. We have to be very, very quiet. Can you do that for me? Can we play the quiet game?"
They both nodded vigorously, pressing their faces into my shoulders.
Suddenly, the nursery door creaked open.
A beam of a flashlight swept across the room, illuminating the empty, unmade bed, the scattered toys, and finally, the dark stain on the floor where Marcus’s body lay.
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"They're not in the bed," a voice whispered from the doorway.
It was Viktor.
