Shayla POV
"Get down!"
Dante's body slammed into mine, knocking me off the couch as bullets shattered the office windows. Glass rained down like sharp snow. My ears rang from the explosions downstairs.
Lorenzo was already firing back, his gun barking loud in the small space. "They're coming up the stairs! We need to move—now!"
But I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The gunfire, the shouting, the smell of smoke—it all blended together into a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.
"Shayla!" Dante's face filled my vision. "I need you to listen. Can you hear me?"
I nodded, but everything felt far away. Little space was pulling at me hard, trying to drag me under where it was safe and small and someone else could handle the scary things.
"Good girl." Dante pulled me to my feet. "We're going to the panic room. It's safe there. Can you run?"
"I—I think so."
"That's my brave girl." He kept one arm around me, his other hand holding a gun. "Lorenzo, cover us!"
We ran. The hallway was chaos—Dante's men fighting Antonio's people, more glass breaking, someone screaming. I kept my eyes on Dante's back, focusing on his heartbeat against my cheek where he'd tucked me close.
A door. Heavy metal. Dante pushed me through first, then Lorenzo dove in behind us. The door sealed with a heavy thunk.
Silence. Sudden and complete.
"Sofia's location just came through," Lorenzo said, checking his phone with shaking hands. "Anonymous tip. She's at the old factory on Morrison Street. But Dante—it's twelve minutes away. If the bomb timer is real—"
"I'm going." Dante was already moving toward a weapons locker in the corner. "You stay here with Shayla."
"No!" I grabbed his arm. "You can't leave. They'll kill you. This is what they want—to separate us!"
"Sofia is six years old and terrified." Dante's voice was gentle but final. "I can't let her die, baby girl. I'm sorry."
"Then I'm coming with you!"
"Absolutely not." He cupped my face. "You stay here where it's safe. Lorenzo will protect you until I get back."
"What if you don't come back?" My voice broke. "What if this is a trap and I never see you again?"
Something painful crossed his face. "Then you'll be okay. Lorenzo will make sure—"
"I won't be okay!" Tears spilled hot down my cheeks. "Everyone leaves me. Everyone. My dad, my coaches, my friends, Derek. Everyone who said they'd stay just... left. And now you're leaving too!"
"Shayla—"
"You promised!" I was sobbing now, little and big crashing together. "You promised Daddy would keep me safe! But you're leaving just like everyone else!"
The words hung between us, ugly and true.
Dante pulled me into his arms, holding tight. "Listen to me very carefully. I'm not leaving you. I'm saving a little girl so I can come back to you. There's a difference."
"But what if—"
"No what ifs." He kissed my forehead. "I'm coming back. I promise on everything I have. But I need you to be brave for just a little while longer. Can you do that for Daddy?"
I wanted to scream no. Wanted to cling to him and beg him to stay. But that little girl Sofia was out there, scared and alone, waiting for someone to save her.
The way I'd waited so many times, and nobody came.
"Okay," I whispered. "But you better come back."
"I will." He looked at Lorenzo. "Keep her safe. If anything happens to me, you know what to do."
Lorenzo nodded grimly. "I've got her, brother."
Dante gave me one last look—fierce and tender and full of promises—then he was gone.
The panic room felt too quiet. Too empty.
Lorenzo sat beside me on the small couch. "He'll be okay. Dante always comes back."
"You don't know that."
"I do. Because he's never had a reason to fight this hard before." Lorenzo smiled sadly. "You gave him that reason."
We waited. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.
My phone buzzed. A video message from an unknown number.
"Don't open that," Lorenzo warned.
But my hand was already moving. Something told me I needed to see this.
The video loaded. It was dark, shaky footage from inside a car. Someone was filming Dante's SUV racing down a street.
Then the voice. Derek's voice.
"Say goodbye to your Daddy, Shayla. He's heading right into our real trap."
The car camera zoomed in. Up ahead, Dante's SUV was approaching an intersection.
A massive truck was barreling toward the same intersection from the side street. Too fast. No way to stop.
"Three... two... one..." Derek counted down gleefully.
"NO!" I screamed.
The truck slammed into Dante's SUV with a sound like the world ending. Metal crunched. Glass exploded. The SUV spun wildly, flipping twice before crashing into a building.
Smoke poured from the wreckage.
Nothing moved.
"Dante!" I was on my feet, running for the panic room door. Lorenzo caught me.
"Let me go! He needs help! He's hurt!"
"It's not safe—"
"I DON'T CARE!" I fought him with everything I had. Champion strength mixed with little-space terror. "That's my Daddy! He's hurt and I need to—"
The video continued playing on the floor where I'd dropped my phone.
Men in masks surrounded the crashed SUV. They pulled open the driver's door. Dragged someone out. The camera zoomed closer.
It was Dante. Unconscious. Bleeding from his head.
They loaded him into a white van.
Derek's voice came through again. "Thanks for the delivery, Shayla. Now we have leverage for the real negotiation. You want your Daddy back? You want your sister? You want little Sofia to live?" He laughed. "Then you come to us. Alone. One hour. The address is texting to you now. If you bring anyone, if you call police, if you try anything heroic—we kill all three of them. Starting with Dante."
The video ended.
My phone buzzed with a new message. An address. And a photo.
It was Dante, chained to a wall in a dark room. His eyes were open now, full of pain. Blood trickled down his face.
Beside him, Sofia sat crying. And next to her, Vanessa slumped unconscious.
All three people I'd brought into danger. All three people who might die because of me.
The message came through: "Tick tock, little girl. Your move. Come save them, or we start sending pieces."
Lorenzo was reading over my shoulder. "No. Absolutely not. It's suicide."
"He came for me when I needed him." My voice sounded strange. Calm. Determined. "Now I go for him."
"Shayla, listen to reason—"
"You said Dante fights harder because of me. Because I gave him a reason." I looked at Lorenzo, letting him see the champion, not the scared little girl. "Well, he gave me a reason too. And I don't leave my people behind."
"You'll die."
"Maybe." I grabbed my phone, memorizing the address. "But I'm a wrestler. I've taken down bigger, stronger opponents my whole life. I know how to fight."
"This isn't a ring with rules!"
"I know." I headed for the panic room door. "That means I don't have to fight fair."
Lorenzo blocked my path. "I can't let you do this."
"Then you'll have to knock me out. Because I'm going, with or without your help."
We stared at each other. The brother who'd promised to protect me. The girl who refused to stay protected while people died.
Finally, Lorenzo cursed. "Dante's going to kill me for this. You need weapons. And backup."
"They said come alone."
"They also think you're just a helpless little girl." He pulled open the weapons locker. "Let's prove them wrong."
My phone buzzed again. Another video. This time it was live footage.
A man stood in front of Dante, holding a knife. Marcus. My old manager.
"This is what happens to people who take what's mine," Marcus said to the camera. To me. He pressed the knife to Dante's throat. "One hour, Shayla. Or I start cutting."
The feed stayed live. Dante's eyes found the camera. Found me, somehow, across the distance.
"Don't come," he mouthed silently. "Run."
But I was already moving.
Because everyone had always told me to run from fights I couldn't win.
And I'd never listened before.