My fingers closed around the steel handle.
Luca's grip tightened on my wrist. "Elena. Don't."
The voice sobbed again, raw and desperate. "Please. They're right here."
My heart fractured.
"I have to know," I whispered.
"That's exactly what they want," Luca said, his voice low but urgent. "Romano trained his people in psychological traps. Voices. Memories. Guilt."
"You don't understand," I said, tears sliding down my face. "That voice… it's him."
Marcus fired another round, shouting orders into his radio. The basement shook again, and somewhere above us, glass shattered.
Time was running out.
Luca searched my face, then finally released my wrist.
"One step," he said coldly. "And if this is a trap, you move when I say so. No hesitation."
I nodded.
My hand shook as I turned the handle.
The steel door swung open.
The room beyond was dim, lit by a single hanging bulb.
And there he was.
My father.
Bound to a chair. Bruised. Blood on his temple.
"Papa," I cried, dropping the gun as I rushed forward.
He looked up slowly, eyes glassy with pain and something else I couldn't name.
"Elena," he breathed. "My little girl."
I collapsed in front of him, clutching his hands. They were warm. Real.
"You're alive," I sobbed. "They told me you were safe."
"They lied," he whispered. "They made me say things. They said they'd kill me if I didn't cooperate."
My chest heaved. "Who did this?"
He swallowed hard. "Victor Romano's men."
Behind me, Luca went rigid.
"This room was sealed," Luca said quietly. "No one should've been able to access it."
My father's gaze flicked briefly past me toward Luca.
Then he screamed.
Gunfire erupted.
Pain exploded across my back as I was thrown forward.
Luca roared my name.
Marcus tackled me to the ground as bullets ripped through the panic room. Smoke filled the air. The chair toppled. My father fell sideways
And rolled to his feet.
Too fast.
Too smooth.
The bruises were fake.
The blood was makeup.
My heart shattered.
"I'm sorry, Elena," he said calmly, pulling a gun from beneath the chair. "You made this easier than expected."
"No," I whispered.
He fired.
Luca shoved Marcus and me aside, the bullet grazing his shoulder instead.
The man who had raised me the man I trusted turned and ran toward the back exit.
Luca didn't hesitate.
He chased him.
"Stay with Marcus!" Luca shouted.
I scrambled up, ignoring the pain burning along my spine. "He's not my father," I whispered numbly.
Marcus looked grim. "No. He's Victor Romano's best mimic."
The words barely registered.
We followed Luca through a narrow service tunnel. My breath came in ragged gasps. The tunnel opened into a hidden garage.
Empty.
Except for a single black SUV pulling away.
Luca fired three shots.
The vehicle disappeared into the trees.
Silence fell.
Only broken glass and blood remained.
I sank to my knees.
"He used my memories," I whispered. "My grief."
Luca turned to me slowly. His face was harder than I'd ever seen it.
"They now know your greatest weakness," he said. "And they'll use it again."
I hugged myself, shaking. "I almost got you killed."
"You learned," Luca replied. "And learning hurts."
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Marcus's phone buzzed.
"Sir," he said quietly. "We just got confirmation."
Luca looked up. "Of what?"
Marcus hesitated, then turned the screen toward us.
A news alert blazed across it.
BREAKING: FINANCIAL EMPIRE DE SANTIS GROUP UNDER FEDERAL INVESTIGATION
My stomach dropped.
"They didn't just attack you physically," Marcus continued. "They're dismantling you."
Luca stared at the screen.
Then he smiled.
And it terrified me.
"They want war," he said softly. "Then I'll give them one."
He turned to me.
"But next time," he added, "they won't come for you."
My pulse thundered. "Who will they come for?"
Luca's eyes locked onto mine.
"Our child."
The world went dark.