The basement was cold and smelled of damp earth. Amara huddled in the corner, her fingers curled around the hidden trapdoor Lorenzo had mentioned. Above her, the floorboards creaked. Then came the sound she dreaded most: the heavy, rhythmic thud of a shotgun.
The cabin erupted. Shouts, the shattering of glass, and the roar of gunfire echoed through the vents. Amara covered her ears, tears streaming down her face. She wanted to run, but her legs felt like lead.
Stay until you hear my voice, he had said.
Upstairs, Lorenzo was a shadow in the dark. He didn't use the lights. He moved by memory and instinct. Two men burst through the kitchen window; Lorenzo took the first one down with a knife to the throat before the man could even raise his weapon. He caught the second man's wrist, twisting it until the bone snapped, and finished him with a single, silenced shot.
But there were more. Many more.
"De Luca!" a voice shouted from the woods. It was Marco, Lorenzo's own head of security. "Give us the girl, and maybe Silvio will let you live to see the sunrise!"
The betrayal stung worse than any bullet. Marco had been with the family for ten years.
Lorenzo crouched behind the heavy kitchen island, reloading his handgun. "You'll have to step inside to take her, Marco. I'm curious to see if you have the spine for it."
A hail of bullets ripped through the cabin walls, shredding the sofa where Amara had sat only minutes before. Lorenzo waited. He counted the shots. When the reloading pause came, he moved.
He didn't go for the door. He went for the basement.
Amara screamed as the cellar door swung open, but a blood-stained hand quickly covered her mouth.
"It's me," Lorenzo whispered. His face was pale, and he was clutching his side. Dark blood was seeping through his fingers.
"You're hurt!" Amara gasped, reaching for him.
"It's a scratch," he lied, his voice strained. He pulled her toward the hidden tunnel under the rug. "Marco is outside. He brought half of Silvio's hit squad. The tunnel leads to a ravine a mile away. You go. I'll hold them here."
"No!" Amara gripped his jacket. "If you stay, they'll kill you. Come with me!"
Lorenzo looked at her, and for a fleeting second, the "Mafia King" disappeared. He looked like a man who had finally found something worth dying for. He leaned in and kissed her—a hard, desperate kiss that tasted of copper and rain.
"Go, Amara," he commanded, shoving her into the dark tunnel. "If I don't make it... run to the police station in the next town. Tell them everything."
"Lorenzo—"
He slammed the trapdoor shut and dragged a heavy crate over it.
Amara crawled through the dirt, her heart breaking with every inch. Behind her, she heard the front door of the cabin kick open. She heard Marco's laugh. And then, she heard the roar of an explosion that shook the very earth around her.
The safe house is gone! Did Lorenzo survive the blast, or is Amara truly alone in the woods? Would you like to see what happens in Chapter 11: The Lone Queen?