ANA:
It happened too fast for me to process.
One minute, I was still tangled in his bedsheets. The next—gunshots. Everywhere.
The deafening cracks of bullets ripped through the silence, echoing through the house. My heart slammed against my ribs as I jolted awake, panic tightening its grip around my throat.
I scrambled to grab my clothes, shoving them on with shaking hands. My mind raced. Where's Enzo? Where's Jayden? Rio? Lara? Mark? Anyone?
The house felt wrong. Empty, but not silent—the chaos outside told me otherwise.
Then, I saw her.
Amara.
She was curled up beneath the table, eyes wide with terror. Without hesitation, I grabbed her, pulling her into my arms as I rushed back to my room. I locked the door behind us, but deep down, I knew—it wasn't enough.
We weren't safe.
The gunfire hadn't stopped. Ten minutes. Maybe more. Enzo's men were fighting back, but the enemy was stronger. I could hear the thuds of bodies hitting the ground, the gurgled screams of the dying.
I tried calling Enzo. No signal.
Shit.
I swallowed hard, forcing my mind to work through the fear. Who do I call? David? My father? No. If Dad finds out about Enzo, he'll do what he did last time—he'll ruin him.
But none of that mattered right now.
Who the hell are they? How did they get in?
The sounds of battle were getting closer. Too close.
I couldn't wait any longer. Gripping Amara's hand, I pulled her toward the bathroom, trying to find any kind of escape.
Too late.
The door slammed open.
My breath hitched.
A bruised Abby stood in the doorway, flanked by men in black. And behind them—Allesandro Russo.
Fuck.
"Hello, Anastasia." His smirk was razor-sharp, dripping with cruel amusement. I took a step back. Useless. He only stepped forward, eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. "You have something I want."
Then—chaos.
Everything happened too fast. Hands grabbed me, yanking me away before I could react. I kicked, thrashed, tried to fight—it didn't matter. The world blurred as I was dragged out, my pulse a frantic drumbeat against my ribs.
By the time I could think, I was already on a plane.
Panic clawed at my throat. Where the fuck am I going? I don't know. Where is Amara? I know. Did they get the black box? I don't know. Will I ever see Enzo again? I don't know either.
But I do know one thing—They drugged me.
My limbs felt heavy, my thoughts sluggish. I could barely keep my eyes open, but my mind wouldn't stop racing. I should have called Dad. Or David. Enzo should have been there... why wasn't he there?
Then, through the haze, I heard Abby's voice—smooth, taunting."Next stop: Russia."