Chapter 8
The aftermath of the raid was cleared away by morning.
By ten o'clock, the broken glass was replaced, the blood scrubbed from the marble floors, and the estate returned to its pristine, fortress-like state.
Upper floor, inside the east wing, the steel panic door finally unlocked with a loud click.
Sophia stepped out into the bedroom, holding Emma tightly in her arms. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with lingering shock.
Alessandro was sitting on the edge of the bed. His tactical vest was gone, replaced by a clean white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His knuckles were bruised, but otherwise, he looked completely unharmed. Standing beside his knee, tail thumping lazily against the rug, was Bruno.
"It's over," Alessandro said gently, standing up.
Emma immediately wriggled out of Sophia's arms, running across the floor and throwing herself against Bruno's chest. "Bruno! You survived the monsters!"
Bruno gave her a massive, wet lick across her cheek, causing Emma to burst into fits of joyful giggles.
Sophia stood near the closet door, her chest heaving, tears finally breaking past her eyelashes. She looked at Alessandro—the man who had fought a war in his own hallways to keep her safe.
"He's... he's gone?" Sophia whispered.
"Julian Vance will never trouble this earth again," Alessandro said firmly. He walked across the room, stopping inches from her, taking her small face into his large, calloused hands. "You are free, Sophia. Truly free."
Sophia let out a broken sob, burying her face into his chest, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Alessandro held her close, burying his face in her dark hair, inhaling the sweet scent of wild roses that clung to her skin.
"Thank you," she wept into his shirt. "Thank you... for saving us."
"I didn't save you to earn your thanks, Sophia," Alessandro murmured softly, his voice full of an undeniable, fierce passion. "I saved you because I cannot imagine my life without you or Emma in it."
Sophia pulled back slightly, looking up into his stormy gray eyes, finding no malice, no coldness—only an overwhelming, absolute devotion.
"You belong here, Sophia," Alessandro continued, his thumb gently tracing her lower lip. "Not as a maid. Not as a guest. As my wife. As the Queen of this estate."
Sophia’s heart soared. The years of fear, running, and poverty vanished into nothingness beneath the heat of his gaze.
"Yes," she whispered, a brilliant, beautiful smile breaking across her face. "Yes, Alessandro."
From the floor, Emma looked up from hugging Bruno, clapping her little hands together. "Yay! Does this mean Bruno gets to eat dinner at the big table now?"
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Alessandro laughed—a rich, genuine sound that echoed through the room—and reached down, scooping Emma up with one arm while holding Sophia with the other.
"Bruno can eat wherever he wants, sweetheart," Alessandro smiled. "He earned it."
