ZOE DEAN'S POV
"Zoe."
A soft voice drifted through my sleep. It sounded distant, almost part of a dream. My body felt heavy, my mind foggy. I wanted to roll over and sink deeper into the warmth of my pillow.
But the voice came again, closer this time, edged with something I couldn't quite place. Worry? Urgency?
"Zoe, wake up."
I groaned softly and buried my face in the sheets. Whoever it was, whatever it was, could wait. It was too late, and I needed my sleep. Maybe it was just a dream.
Then the bed dipped slightly beside me. A hand brushed my shoulder—gentle, but insistent.
"Wake up, Zoe."
That voice.
My sleepy mind recognized it slowly, like a light flickering on in the dark. Nero.
My heart gave a weak thump. What was he doing waking me up at this hour?
"What is it?" I murmured, my voice rough and drowsy.
"We need to go," he said. His tone wasn't loud, but the urgency in it snapped through the haze in my brain. I blinked my eyes open slowly, trying to focus.
Nero's face hovered above me—tense, composed, but his eyes gave him away. They were sharp, alert. Watching me.
I frowned, confused. "Go? Go where?"
He didn't answer. "Get up. We need to go now."
Something in his voice told me not to argue. Still, my sluggish mind couldn't keep up. Why would we be leaving in the middle of the night?
He moved to the closet, quick but quiet, pulling out one of his leather jackets. The way he moved—focused, deliberate—made my stomach twist.
Something was wrong.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly. "What's going on?"
He didn't look at me as he draped the jacket over my shoulders, his fingers brushing my hair free from where it was caught in the collar. His touch was soft, protective, too calm for the words that came next.
"The villa is under attack."
For a moment, my brain went blank.
"What?"
His tone was even, but that made it worse somehow. "I need you to come with me to meet Emily. She's waiting at the entrance. Come on."
Attack? The villa was under attack? My body froze as the words sank in. I felt my pulse race, a tremor spreading through my fingers.
"Who's attacking us? Why?" My voice cracked as panic rose in my throat.
Nero didn't answer. He just kept moving around the room—grabbing things, stuffing a few items into a small bag. And then—
He pulled open the drawer and took out a gun.
My breath caught.
When he reached for a second one, my stomach dropped. My heart stopped for half a beat. This wasn't some kind of drill. This was real.
"Nero…" My voice broke. "Talk to me. What's going on?"
He crouched down in front of me where I still sat frozen on the bed. His eyes met mine, steady but intense.
"Look at me," he said softly, his voice low, meant to reassure, but it didn't. Not really.
"I'll explain later, okay? But right now, we don't have time. You need to trust me. We move now."
I swallowed hard, trying to push through the fear fogging my thoughts. I nodded shakily. Trust him. Just trust him.
He reached for my hand, pulled me to my feet, and led me out of the room. His grip was firm, grounding. Without it, I might've collapsed.
We hurried down the stairs. My bare feet were silent on the marble, but every sound—the creak of the banister, the distant hum outside—felt too loud, too alive.
When we reached the villa's entrance, I saw Benny and Emily already there. Benny's arms were around her, holding her tight.
My chest tightened.
When they heard us, they broke apart. Emily turned toward me, and the look on her face almost undid me. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her lips trembling, but she tried to smile. Tried.
"Is everything ready?" Benny asked Nero, his voice steady, but I could hear the edge in it.
"Yes." Nero's reply was clipped. He turned to Emily. "Please keep her safe." His tone softened just slightly, almost pleading.
Emily nodded and reached for my hand. "Don't worry, I'll take care of her," she said gently.
Nero nodded once, then exhaled, bringing out one of the guns from his waistband. He checked it, then turned back to me.
I stared at him, my heart pounding against my ribs.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. The warmth of it contrasted sharply with the chaos spinning around us.
"What about you?" I whispered, my throat tight. "Aren't you coming with us?"
He gave me a small, sad smile—the kind that hurt to see. "Baby, I'm right behind you. I promise. Just stay with Emily, okay? And whatever happens… save yourself first."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, even though every part of me wanted to cling to him.
Then he placed the gun in my hand.
My breath hitched. My fingers trembled around the cold metal. I had never held one before—it felt heavy, foreign, terrifying.
"Nero…" I started, but he shook his head.
"Go."
His voice was final.
Emily tightened her grip on my hand and pulled me toward the door. My heart thudded painfully as I glanced back one last time. Nero stood there, gun in hand, the shadows from the hall lights cutting across his face.
And then we ran.
***
STEFANO RUSSO'S (NERO'S) POV
The night air was heavy with salt and gasoline, sharp against my nostrils. The hum of the speedboat's engine was still ringing in my ears, like a phantom sound. Benny and I had left the villa behind us—left bodies behind us—and now the dark water cut away beneath the boat like a wound splitting open.
We reached the far side of the land where the car waited, parked exactly where we had left it. My boots crunched against the wet gravel as we stepped off the boat. My hands were steady, but inside, my chest felt tight—not for me, but for Zoe.
Zoe had seen everything tonight. Not just the gunfire, not just the chaos—she'd seen me. The real me. The one I kept buried beneath charm and restraint. And I hated that. Hated that she now understood just how dangerous my world could be.
Benny climbed into the passenger seat while I slid behind the wheel. Before starting the engine, I pulled out my phone. One of my men answered on the first ring.
"They're at the airport," he said quickly. "Safe."
A slow exhale escaped me, tension draining from my shoulders for a moment. At least Zoe and Emily were okay.
"Good," I said flatly, and ended the call.
I started the engine. The roar of it filled the silence as we pulled away from the shore.
"Nero," Benny said finally, his voice quiet but edged with something—judgment, maybe. I didn't look at him. I already knew what was coming.
"I told you killing Ben was a bad idea."
I clenched my jaw and accelerated. Buildings blurred past in streaks of orange and white light. My hands stayed steady on the wheel even as my thoughts roared louder than the engine.
"I had to," I said at last, my voice low and serious. "He was one of the men who killed my mother. He deserved what came to him."
Benny let out a long breath. For a man who had just killed alongside me, he looked strangely calm, his face shadowed and unreadable in the passing streetlights. That was Benny—ice under fire.
"So what's the plan?" he asked after a beat. "You know they won't just let this go. Those men are out for blood now. Our blood."
"I know." My eyes stayed on the road, scanning every corner, every shadow.
"So?" he pressed. "What are you going to do?"
"Trust me to handle them."
He made a sound—half laugh, half sigh. "This is getting out of hand, Nero. What happens when Zoe starts asking questions? What are you going to tell her? What explanation can you even give?"
I didn't hesitate. "The truth."
Benny's head turned sharply. "What truth?"
"The truth about everything. About how dangerous my world really is."
His voice rose, shocked. "You're really going to involve her in this? Nero, she's innocent. That's not necessary. You could get her killed. She could be your weakness."
I gripped the wheel tighter, the leather warm beneath my palms. "I have to do this, Benny. I'm not letting her go."
Benny stared at me now. I could feel his eyes from the corner of mine, his raised brows cutting like a question mark. "Not letting her go? What does that even mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like." I took a sharp turn; the tires squealed in protest. "Zoe is mine now. And I'll protect her with the last drop of my blood."
Benny's voice dropped softer, like he was afraid of the answer. "That wasn't the plan. At first I thought it was just infatuation. Now it's obsession. That's dangerous, Nero. Have you forgotten the easiest way to bring down a Don is through his woman? Did you forget what happened to your father?"
His words hit me like a cold wind. For a moment, my father's face flashed in my mind—the downfall, the blood. I shoved the memory aside.
"Benny, stop worrying," I said tightly. "I have this under control."
He didn't answer right away. Silence pooled between us, broken only by the sound of the engine and the occasional hiss of tires on wet asphalt. Finally, he sighed.
"So what are we going to do about Ben's men?"
My expression darkened. My mind flicked through possibilities—blood, strategy, retaliation. It wouldn't be easy from here.