The safe-house was too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet that comes with night, but the heavy, suffocating silence that pressed against the walls, waiting to break. The lights were out, the air still. Aria sat stiffly by the window, staring at her faint reflection in the black glass. Her chest rose and fell too fast, every breath uneven, shaky.
"Stay close," Lorenzo's voice cut through the dark. It was steady, firm, almost too calm. His pistol gleamed faintly as he flicked the safety off, every muscle in his body coiled and alert. His men moved like shadows, checking corners, whispering codes into their earpieces, scanning doors.
But outside, there was nothing. No voices. No footsteps. Not even the distant hum of traffic.
And that was the problem.
"They cut the power," one of the guards muttered after checking the generator. "Backup's down too. No accident."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened. "Which means they want us blind."
Aria's throat went dry. She wanted to speak, to ask what that meant, but the words stuck. For the first time since her marriage, she realized something: silence could kill faster than bullets.
Minutes dragged. The kind that made you feel every second crawl.
Aria sat perched on the couch, knees drawn in, trying to still the trembling in her hands. Every creak in the floorboards felt louder, every breath from the men felt like thunder. She hated it, hated feeling this weak, this exposed.
Then suddenly Lorenzo crouched in front of her. His hand found hers, not soft, not comforting, but strong and steady.
"Fear keeps you alive," he murmured, his eyes sharp, fixed on hers. "But panic will get you killed. Breathe, Aria."
Her chest rose sharply. She forced air in. Forced it out. The rhythm of his voice, the firmness of his grip, it steadied her, little by little.
"I don't hear them," she whispered.
"That's what worries me."
The fragile quiet shattered.
A crash echoed down the hall. Loud. Sharp. Metal against tile.
One of the guards swore, lifting his weapon.
"Report," Lorenzo snapped into his comm.
Static hissed back. No voice. No reply. Just emptiness.
Aria's heart lurched. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Lorenzo said coldly, "they're already inside."
The words felt like ice in her veins.
The guards spread out, each one moving slow, cautious. The safe-house was no longer a shelter. It was a trap. Every shadow stretched too long, every corner felt too dark.
Aria tried to control her breathing, but her thoughts spun.
She saw blood on her hands again from the night before. She saw fire consuming an innocent family, Sebastian's message written in flames.
Then Cassandra's face flashed in her mind. Her sister. Still trapped in Sebastian's house. Still smiling for cameras. Still wearing the mask of a perfect wife.
And if Sebastian could burn strangers alive just to prove a point, what would he do to Cassandra when he realized Aria wasn't coming back?
The thought stabbed her so deeply she almost gasped.
Another sound. Closer this time.
Heavy boots dragging against tile.
Aria jerked upright in panic, but Lorenzo's grip clamped on her wrist, pulling her down. He leaned close, lips at her ear, his whisper sharp as a blade.
"Stay down. Stay silent. No matter what."
Her chest heaved, her heartbeat wild, but she nodded.
The whole room seemed to hold its breath with her.
And then,
The window exploded. Glass burst inward, raining across the floor in sharp glittering shards. A masked figure dropped inside, gun raised.
"Contact!" one of Lorenzo's men shouted.
The safe-house erupted. Gunfire tore through the dark.
Aria screamed as Lorenzo shoved her flat against the ground, his body shielding hers. Bullets shredded the walls, sparks flying where metal met stone.
The war Sebastian promised wasn't coming.
It was already here.