Nadia! Nadia, wake up!"
The urgency in her mother's voice ripped through her dreams like a blade. Nadia blinked groggily, clutching her blanket tighter. She was only seven years old and hated waking up before the sun. Her mother's hands shook her harder. "Wake up, baby. You have to get dressed. Now."
Nadia frowned and rubbed her eyes. "Mama, what is it? Why are you disturbing me from sleeping?"
A thunderous crash rattled the windows. Nadia's heart jolted as shouts rose outside, followed by the sharp crack of something breaking.
Her mother's eyes were wide with terror, her face pale in the faint glow of the bedside lamp. "The house is under attack."
Nadia froze. Those words did not make sense. The Ferragamo estate was the safest place in the city. Her father was powerful. People feared and respected him. No one would dare.
"Mama, what do you mean?" she whispered.
Her mother yanked her out of bed, fumbling with her nightgown. Her hands trembled so badly the fabric snagged. "We do not have time, Nadia. You must run. Do you hear me? You run and you do not look back."
Before Nadia could answer, the bedroom door slammed open. Her older brother Theodore stumbled inside. Nadia gasped. Blood streaked his shirt, and his hand pressed against his side.
"Theo!" She ran toward him, but he dropped to his knees, clutching the wound. His eyes burned with fierce determination.
"I will hold them off," he said through clenched teeth. He turned to their mother. "Take her. Go."
"No!" Nadia cried, tears welling. "You cannot leave us. You cannot."
Footsteps echoed in the hall. Slow. Deliberate. Heavy.
A shadow filled the doorway.
Nadia's stomach twisted. It was not a stranger. It was Leo Kamali, her father's best friend. She had sat on his lap as a child, tugged on his beard, listened as he laughed with her father over glasses of wine. He had brought her gifts on her birthdays. He was family.
But his eyes were different now. Hard. Cold. And in his hand was a gun.
A fresh stitch cut across his forehead, still raw and angry. Nadia stared at it, the crude black thread stark against his skin. Something about it made her blood run cold.
"Theodore," Leo said softly, almost like he pitied him. "You should have stood aside."
The gun fired.
The sound exploded in Nadia's ears. Theodore jerked back, collapsing against the floor. Blood pooled beneath him.
"Theo!" Nadia screamed, her small hands reaching for him. His lips moved, blood staining his teeth. His voice was faint, broken.
"Survive… for us."
Her mother's cry of anguish split the room as she shoved Nadia backward. "Go! Run!"
Another shot rang out.
Nadia bolted, barefoot and trembling. She sprinted down the narrow hallway, tears blurring her vision. Shouts erupted all around. She heard her father's voice roaring in the distance, ordering guards, fighting back. The estate that had always been safe was chaos, fire, and blood.
She turned a corner and froze. The corridor blazed with orange light. Curtains burned. Glass shattered. Men in black masks stormed through the smoke, guns drawn. Nadia ducked beneath a table as bullets rattled the walls. Her small frame pressed tight against the wood, hands over her ears. She wanted to scream, but fear glued her throat shut.
One of the men barked an order. They ran past her, boots pounding, searching for survivors.
Nadia crawled out from under the table, her heart hammering. She needed to find her father. She needed her family.
She reached the grand staircase and stopped.
Her father was there.
And so was Leo Kamali.
Her father's voice thundered in the burning hall. "After everything, you betray me? I gave you my trust, my friendship!"
Leo's gun gleamed in the light. His expression was unflinching. The stitch on his forehead seemed to pulse in the firelight. "Your time is over, Ferragamo. Your power is wasted. Tonight we take what is ours."
The gun fired.
Nadia's scream caught in her throat as her father collapsed at the foot of the stairs.
The world tilted. The air thickened. Her chest heaved as she staggered back. She wanted to run to him, but her feet would not move.
A hand clamped around her wrist.
Nadia shrieked, twisting, but it was her mother. Her face was streaked with soot and tears. "We have to go!"
She dragged Nadia toward the back of the house. They stumbled through smoke and broken glass, every step a fight to breathe. Behind them, gunfire and screams rattled the walls.
At the kitchen door, her mother stopped. She pulled a delicate gold necklace from around her neck, the one she never took off, and pressed it into Nadia's palm. "Keep this. Remember us."
"Mama."
"I love you. Run."
The kitchen door burst open. Nadia's mother spun, shielding her. Shots fired. Her mother crumpled.
Nadia screamed until her throat burned. She stumbled into the garden, clutching the necklace so hard the chain bit into her palm.
The night air bit her skin. She ran barefoot across the lawn, the grass wet beneath her feet. Behind her, the estate blazed like a funeral pyre. Flames licked the sky. The smell of smoke and blood clung to her clothes.
Men shouted as they poured out of the burning house. "Find the girl!"
Nadia darted into the trees. Branches whipped her arms. Roots tore at her ankles. Her lungs burned, but she did not stop. She could not stop. Theodore's voice echoed in her head. Survive for us.
The forest was a maze of shadows. Nadia's vision blurred with tears. She tripped and fell, scraping her knees, but she pushed herself up again. Every sound made her heart race. Every crack of a branch made her think Leo's men had found her.
She hid beneath a fallen log as footsteps pounded past. Voices muttered in the distance.
"Did you find her?"
"No sign. She's just a child. She won't make it far."
"Keep searching. Kamali wants her gone."
Nadia bit her lip so hard it bled, forcing herself not to cry. The necklace dug into her clenched fist.
The footsteps faded.
Slowly, she crawled out and stumbled deeper into the woods. Hours seemed to pass, though it might have only been minutes. The night grew colder. Her small body ached with exhaustion. Her legs trembled.
At last, she collapsed beneath a tree. Her chest heaved with sobs she could no longer hold back. Everyone was gone. Mama. Papa. Theodore. All gone.
Her small fists clenched in the dirt, the necklace chain wrapped around her fingers. She was seven years old, alone, terrified. But inside her chest, a spark burned.
The sound of hooves jolted her awake. A carriage light cut through the trees. Nadia shrank back, too weak to run.
The carriage stopped. A tall man stepped down, lantern in hand. Alessandro Vitale's eyes softened when he saw her.
"Good God. A child." He knelt, lifting her gently. "What are you doing out here alone?"
Nadia buried her face in his chest, too broken to speak. He carried her into the carriage, wrapping her in his coat.
As the carriage rolled away, Nadia looked out the window. In the distance, her home was nothing but flames and smoke against the night sky.
She knew what that meant. The Ferragamos were dead. Only she remained.
Her tears dried on her cheeks, replaced by something colder. Stronger. She would never forget Leo Kamali's face. Never forget that stitch carved across his forehead like a brand.
One day she would make him scream the way Theo had screamed. One day she would burn his world the way he had burned hers.
The necklace grew warm in her palm, a promise made in blood and ash.