Chapter 2
Darkness swallowed the cellar.
Grace did not scream.
That frightened me more than if she had.
The emergency lights should have turned on.
They did not.
The backup generator should have kicked in.
It stayed silent.
Someone had not just cut power.
Someone knew my house.
Evelyn moved first.
“Grace, down.”
Grace dropped to one knee.
I drew my gun and stepped between her and the stairs.
Above us, the mansion groaned with sudden silence.
No music.
No staff footsteps.
No hum of cameras.
Then came a sound.
Soft.
Metal on stone.
Someone at the cellar door.
Evelyn slid beside Grace and whispered, “Listen.”
My daughter tilted her head.
Her breathing slowed.
I hated that she knew how to do that.
I needed her to know how to do that.
Both truths tore at me.
A shadow moved under the door.
My phone buzzed again.
Another message.
NO GUARDS LEFT TO SAVE HER.
My blood went cold.
I pressed the call button on my earpiece.
“Marco.”
Nothing.
“Luca.”
Static.
I looked at Evelyn.
“How many exits?”
“Two,” she said.
“This cellar has one.”
“Sofia built another.”
The name hit me like a slap.
Evelyn grabbed Grace’s hand and pulled her toward the wine racks.
The cellar door handle turned.
Slowly.
I aimed.
“Who’s there?”
No answer.
Evelyn pressed a hidden latch behind a dusty crate.
A narrow stone panel opened near the floor.
I stared.
“My wife put tunnels in my house?”
“She put escape routes in her daughter’s home.”
The cellar door burst inward.
I fired once.
A man fell into the room.
Two more moved behind him.
Masks.
Black clothes.
Silenced weapons.
Professionals.
Evelyn shoved Grace into the passage.
“Go.”
Grace crawled in.
Evelyn followed.
I backed toward them, firing into the doorway.
Bullets struck stone.
Glass exploded from old wine bottles.
The smell of alcohol filled the air.
I ducked into the passage and pulled the panel shut.
Darkness pressed against us.
Grace’s voice shook.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
Evelyn whispered, “Move. Hands on the wall. Stay low.”
We crawled through a tunnel I never knew existed beneath the home I owned.
Humiliation burned through my fear.
Sofia had hidden things from me.
Evelyn had hidden things from me.
My daughter had hidden pain from me.
And now killers were inside my walls.
The tunnel sloped upward.
Behind us, muffled shouts echoed through stone.
Grace moved faster than I expected.
She counted under her breath.
“Left hand scrape. Right knee lift. Pipe overhead.”
Evelyn had trained her here too.
I almost snapped.
Then Grace avoided a hanging pipe before I did.
My forehead struck metal hard enough to blur my vision.
Grace turned.
“Dad?”
“I’m fine.”
Evelyn said nothing.
Smart woman.
The tunnel ended at a maintenance room behind the east pantry.
Evelyn listened at the panel.
No sound.
She opened it.
We stepped into the mansion.
The hall outside was lit only by lightning flashing through tall windows.
Rain hammered the glass.
My house looked unfamiliar in the dark.
A palace turned trap.
I found Marco near the service hall.
Alive.
Bleeding from his shoulder.
His gun was gone.
“Boss,” he rasped.
I crouched.
“How many?”
“Don’t know. They knew the rotation. Knew the cameras. Knew the safe room codes.”
Inside the family.
Sofia’s words moved through me like ice.
“Who let them in?”
Marco’s eyes filled with shame.
“I don’t know.”
Grace knelt beside him and touched his sleeve.
“Marco?”
His face broke.
“Little star. I’m sorry.”
Little star.
Only my inner circle called her that.
Evelyn’s head snapped toward the west hall.
“Movement.”
I heard nothing.
Grace did.
“Two,” she whispered. “One limping. One heavier.”
I looked at her.
She looked back at nothing.
“Dad, breathe quieter.”
My daughter told me how to survive in my own house.
I obeyed.
The first attacker rounded the corner.
Evelyn threw a carving knife from the pantry.
It struck his shoulder.
He cried out.
I shot the second before he raised his weapon.
Grace flinched at the gunshot but did not freeze.
Evelyn took the wounded man down with brutal efficiency.
I grabbed him by the collar and ripped off his mask.
I knew him.
Not well.
But enough.
Enzo Bellini.
A foot soldier from my cousin Vittorio’s crew.
My stomach dropped.
“Who sent you?” I demanded.
Enzo spat blood.
“Ask your brother.”
I went still.
My brother.
Matteo.
Grace whispered, “Uncle Matt?”
Enzo smiled at her voice.
“That birthday made everyone nervous, little star.”
I hit him once.
Hard.
He collapsed unconscious.
Evelyn grabbed my arm.
“Not now.”
I shook her off.
But she was right.
I hated that.
We moved Marco into the pantry and locked it from inside.
I called the number only my closest captains had.
This time, one answered.
Matteo.
His voice was breathless.
“Dom? Where are you? We’re under attack.”
I closed my eyes.
My younger brother sounded terrified.
Too terrified.
Or perfectly so.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“North wing. I’ve got men down. Is Grace safe?”
Grace’s face turned toward the phone.
I did not answer.
Matteo continued, “Dom, listen to me. I think this is Romano’s people.”
Romano.
My rival.
The easy answer.
The answer I wanted.
Sofia’s letter burned in my pocket.
Trust Evelyn before anyone who tells you what you want to hear.
I looked at Evelyn.
She shook her head once.
I said into the phone, “Meet me in the chapel room.”
“Dom, no. We need to evacuate.”
“Chapel room.”
I hung up.
Evelyn stared at me.
“You’re testing him.”
“I’m giving him a chance.”
“You may be giving him Grace.”
My hand tightened around the gun.
“Careful.”
“No,” Grace said.
Both of us turned.
Her voice trembled, but she stood straight.
“No more talking over me. If Uncle Matt is part of this, I need to know.”
“You need to be hidden,” I said.
“I’ve been hidden my whole life.”
That landed.
Hard.
I looked at my daughter.
The child I had protected so fiercely that I had made her feel buried alive.
Then I looked at the dead man in my hallway.
“Fine,” I said. “But you stay between us.”
Grace’s mouth tightened.
“I’m blind, Dad. Not made of glass.”
Evelyn almost smiled.
Almost.
We moved toward the chapel room.
It was Sofia’s favorite space, a quiet room with candles, old icons, and a painted ceiling she said made the house feel less like a fortress.
Tonight, it felt like a confession chamber.
Matteo arrived two minutes after us.
His suit was torn.
His lip was bleeding.
Two of his men flanked him.
He rushed toward Grace.
“Thank God.”
I raised my gun.
He stopped.
His face changed.
“Dom?”
“Enzo Bellini is downstairs.”
Matteo blinked.
“Who?”
“Do not lie to me in Sofia’s room.”
His eyes flicked to Evelyn.
Then to Grace.
Too fast.
Grace heard the shift in his shoes.
“Uncle Matt,” she whispered. “Why did you step back?”
Pain crossed his face.
For one moment, my brother looked like the boy who used to follow me through our father’s warehouse, asking me to teach him how to fight.
Then the moment died.
Matteo sighed.
“I told them not to hurt her.”
The world went silent.
May you like
My gun hand did not shake.
But something inside me broke clean in half.
