Chapter 7 - THE RECKONING
The shot echoed thunderously through the room, but the pain never came.
I opened my eyes.
The traitor gasped, a look of utter shock freezing on his face. A small red hole was blooming right in the center of his chest. He staggered backward, dropping his gun, and crashed heavily onto the floor, dead before he hit the ground.
Standing in the doorway, framed by smoke and holding a smoking pistol, was Lorenzo. His suit was torn, stained with soot and blood, but he stood like a resurrected titan.
He didn't say a word. He sprinted across the room, past the dead body, and pulled me violently into his arms, squeezing me against his chest as if making sure I was still real.
"Are you hurt?" he asked frantically, his hands cupping my face, searching my eyes. "Did he touch you? Speak to me, Mara!"
"I... I'm okay," I sobbed, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my face into his shoulder. "Leo is safe! We're safe!"
In the crib, Leo was wailing softly, reaching his arms out. Lorenzo broke away from me, reached down, and picked up his son, pulling both of us close to him.
Outside, the gunfire slowly died down as Lorenzo’s loyal men eliminated the remaining mercenaries. The attack had been foiled, but the cost was clear: the war had officially begun.
An hour later, the police—or rather, the private security force controlled by Lorenzo—cleared the estate. Marco was rushed to the hospital in critical but stable condition.
Lorenzo sat in his private study, sipping dark whiskey from a crystal glass. The room was dark, illuminated only by the fire crackling in the hearth.
I walked into the study, carrying a warm cup of tea. I had changed into comfortable silk robes provided by Mrs. Gable. Leo was sound asleep in his crib, monitored by three heavily armed guards posted right inside his room.
"You should sleep," I said gently, placing the tea on the desk beside him.
Lorenzo looked up, his dark eyes hollowed by fatigue. "I can't sleep, Mara. Every time I close my eyes, I see him holding a gun to your head."
I stepped around the desk and stood beside his chair. "He's dead, Lorenzo. You saved us."
"I brought this danger into your life," Lorenzo said bitterly, staring at the fire. "Your mother spent twenty-four years hiding you from this world. And in one night, I dragged you right into the center of the flames."
"My mother hid me because she was afraid," I said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "But running didn't fix anything. It just kept me in the dark. For the first time in my life, I know who I am."
Lorenzo reached up and took my hand, his warm, rough fingers intertwining with mine. He stood up slowly, closing the distance between us until there was no space left.
"You look like her, Mara," he whispered, his eyes searching my face with a passion that made my knees weak. "But you are not her. Elena was fragile. She hid behind walls. You... you stood in front of a gun to protect my son."
"He's my family too," I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Lorenzo stepped closer, his thumb gently tracing the line of my lower lip. "It's not just blood, Mara. And you know it."
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My breath caught in my throat. The tension between us was unbearable, a magnetic pull that had been building since the moment I picked up his son in that restaurant.
Before I could say another word, Lorenzo leaned down and pressed his lips against mine.
