The storm had not yet passed when Lorenzo De Luca stood at the tall windows of his study, watching the dark sky twist above the city. The thunder rolled like an omen, echoing through the marble halls of the mansion. The air smelled of gunpowder and roses — the strange scent that always followed war.
He turned away from the window when Isabella entered. She wore a pale blue dress, her hair damp from the rain, her eyes filled with questions she had learned not to ask.
"Lorenzo," she said softly, "you've been standing there for hours."
"I'm waiting for silence," he replied, his voice low. "It's the only thing I can trust these days."
She walked closer, her hand brushing his sleeve. "You can trust me."
He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "That's why I need you to leave."
Her breath caught. "Leave? What do you mean?"
"You'll go to the countryside. Matteo will escort you. You'll stay there until I settle things with Marco."
Isabella's lips parted in disbelief. "You can't send me away every time the world turns dangerous, Lorenzo."
"This isn't the world," he said sharply. "It's him. He's coming for you."
She stepped closer, refusing to back down. "Then let him come. I'm not afraid."
He closed the distance between them, his hands gripping her shoulders. "You should be. He's not like the men we've faced before. He's patient. He's cruel. And he knows exactly how to hurt me — through you."
Her eyes softened. "And you think running will save me?"
"No," he said after a long pause. "It'll save me from losing you."
She reached up, touched his face gently. "You already lost enough. Don't lose yourself too."
For a moment, the storm outside was nothing compared to the storm inside him. Then he stepped back and forced himself to speak.
"You leave at dawn."
She looked at him for a long time, her eyes shimmering. "You can't fight love with orders, Lorenzo."
But he didn't answer. He couldn't.
---
The rain had softened to a steady drizzle by the time Isabella's car left the mansion grounds. Matteo drove in silence, the windshield wipers beating a slow, steady rhythm. The countryside stretched before them — endless fields and forgotten roads.
"Matteo," Isabella said quietly, "why do I feel like he's sending me away for more than protection?"
Matteo kept his eyes on the road. "The boss… he doesn't want you caught in the crossfire. He's at war with a man who doesn't know mercy."
"I know who Marco is," she said. "But Lorenzo can't fight him alone."
Matteo's grip on the wheel tightened. "He has to. You're the reason he still remembers what mercy feels like."
She looked out the window, at the endless rain. "Then maybe I'm his weakness."
Matteo didn't answer — but she saw the truth in his silence.
The car turned down a narrow forest road. The trees loomed tall and heavy, their branches clawing at the sky. Suddenly, Matteo frowned.
"That's strange," he muttered. "We should've reached the checkpoint by now."
Then came the sound — a sharp crack of metal, followed by the hiss of a punctured tire.
"Hold on!" he shouted.
The car spun, swerving violently before crashing into a ditch. The impact threw Isabella forward, pain flashing through her head. When she blinked her eyes open, the world was a blur.
"Matteo…" she whispered.
No response.
Through the shattered windshield, she saw dark figures approaching — men in black, faces covered, guns drawn. One opened the car door and grabbed her by the arm.
"Get off me!" she cried, but another struck her across the face. Darkness swallowed her whole.
---
Back at the De Luca estate, Lorenzo stood by the phone, waiting for Matteo's call. Each minute felt like an hour. When the line finally rang, he answered instantly.
"Matteo?"
But it wasn't Matteo's voice that replied.
> "You really thought you could hide her from me?"
Lorenzo froze.
"Marco," he said, his voice low and deadly. "If you touch her—"
> "Too late for threats, fratellino. She's already mine."
The line went dead.
The glass shattered in Lorenzo's hand as he slammed the phone against the wall. The entire house seemed to hold its breath. Then his voice thundered through the halls:
> "Get the men. Every car, every weapon. Now!"
The guards scattered into motion. Matteo's absence was enough proof — he was either dead or captured. Lorenzo walked to his office, opened a hidden drawer, and pulled out a black gun, heavier than any weapon he'd used before. It had belonged to his father. Now it belonged to vengeance.
---
When Isabella awoke, the air was thick with salt and decay. She was in a dim room with peeling walls, her wrists tied to the arms of a chair. A single bulb flickered above her, swaying slightly with the wind.
A door creaked open.
Marco entered, his coat still wet from rain, a glass of wine in his hand.
"Sleeping beauty," he said with a smile. "I was starting to think you'd never wake up."
"Where is Matteo?" she demanded.
He shrugged. "Let's just say he's… no longer in the picture."
Her heart clenched. "You're a monster."
He laughed softly. "No, Isabella. I'm a realist. I take what I want before it's taken from me."
He walked closer, his presence suffocating. "Do you know why Lorenzo sent you away? Because even he knows you're his downfall. You make him hesitate. You make him weak. And that weakness will kill him."
"Then kill me," she said. "Because I'll never help you."
He leaned down until their faces were inches apart. "No, bella. I don't need your help. I just need him to see you like this. Helpless. Afraid. Broken."
He straightened, turning toward the door. "At midnight, he'll come for you. Alone. And when he does, the De Luca bloodline ends tonight."
---
The storm had returned by the time Lorenzo reached the villa. His car skidded to a halt in the mud, headlights cutting through the dark. The entire building stood silent — too silent.
He entered through the side door, gun raised. The halls smelled of damp stone and iron. Every step echoed like a countdown.
Then he heard it — a soft cry, faint but unmistakable. Isabella.
He followed the sound to a locked door and kicked it open.
She was there, tied to the chair, eyes red, lips trembling. When she saw him, tears filled her eyes.
"Lorenzo…"
He crossed the room in three strides, cutting her free. "It's over. You're safe."
But before she could answer, a voice spoke from behind him.
> "You always did like making grand entrances."
Lorenzo turned.
Marco stood in the doorway, calm, hands in his pockets. Behind him, several armed men waited like shadows.
Lorenzo aimed his gun. "Let her go."
Marco smiled. "You're surrounded, brother. Put it down, and maybe I'll let you live long enough to watch her die."
Lorenzo's finger tightened on the trigger. "You'll have to kill me first."
"Gladly."
The room exploded in chaos. Gunfire erupted, the sound deafening. Lorenzo grabbed Isabella, pulling her behind a pillar. He returned fire, hitting two of Marco's men. The third lunged — Lorenzo took him down with a knife from his belt.
Marco ducked behind a table, laughing.
> "Always the hero, Lorenzo! But tell me — when did you last save yourself?"
Lorenzo stepped out, firing again. The bullet grazed Marco's arm, blood blooming through his sleeve. The smile finally vanished from his face.
"You think this ends with one of us dead?" Marco snarled. "It ends when everything you love burns!"
Before Lorenzo could fire again, Marco tossed a flash grenade. The room filled with white light. When the smoke cleared, he was gone.
Lorenzo ran to the open doorway, but the courtyard was empty — only the sound of the storm remained.
---
By the time they returned to the mansion, dawn was breaking. Isabella sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling. Lorenzo stood by the window again, blood seeping through his torn shirt.
She finally spoke. "You didn't kill him."
He didn't turn. "Not yet."
"Then he'll come again."
He nodded. "Yes. But next time, he won't find you."
She rose, walked to him, and placed her hand on his arm. "You can't fight him forever."
He looked at her, eyes tired but burning with quiet rage. "I don't need forever. I just need one last night."
Her voice broke when she whispered, "And if you don't come back?"
He brushed a tear from her cheek. "Then remember that I loved you more than my own blood."
Outside, the roses in the garden trembled under the rain, petals falling one by one. And in the silence that followed, the storm finally gave way to dawn — not peace, but promise.