Chapter 6
I stride down the hallway toward Damiano's office, my body stiff from a night of minimal sleep.
The memory of those five hours locked in that panic room with Lucrezia still burns fresh in my mind.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Vulnerable, scared, yet somehow still stronger than she gives herself credit for.
The compound is quieter than usual this morning. After last night's attack, security has tripled. I nod at two of my men positioned at strategic points along the corridor. Their faces show the same alertness I've drilled into them.
When Melania finally bypassed the damaged lock system last night, the relief on Lucrezia's face was immediate.
Five hours trapped in that small space had taken its toll, though she'd tried hard not to show it.
The moment the door slid open, Damiano was there, his face a mask of controlled fury that softened only when he saw his sister unharmed.
"Hayes," he'd said, his voice low as he gripped my shoulder. "Thank you."
Two simple words that carried the weight of everything unsaid between us. In our world, protecting family isn't just a job. It's everything.
I reach Damiano's office door and knock twice, sharp and precise. Military habits die hard.
"Enter," comes his voice from inside.
The office is exactly what you'd expect from the head of the Feretti family. Dark wood, leather furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the estate grounds. Damiano sits behind his massive desk, phone pressed to his ear. He motions for me to take a seat while he finishes his call.
I remain standing. Another habit I can't break.
"We'll discuss this later," Damiano says into the phone before hanging up. His eyes meet mine, calculating and cold. "Report."
"The panic room worked as designed, but we need to upgrade the door mechanism. If the bullet had hit two inches to the left, we would've been completely locked out."
"Already being handled." Damiano leans back in his chair. "Melania's working on a complete overhaul of our security systems."
I nod, then hesitate before adding, "Lucrezia handled herself well."
Something flickers across Damiano's face. Pride mixed with pain. "She shouldn't have to."
"No, sir. She shouldn't."
Silence stretches between us, heavy with shared understanding. Lucrezia has already endured more than most could survive. And now she's being targeted again.
"How was she?" Damiano finally asks, his voice softer. "Truly."
"Two panic attacks," I report honestly. "But she pulled herself back both times. She's stronger than she thinks."
Damiano nods.
"I want you on her exclusively," he says, eyes returning to me. "24/7 protection. No rotations with other guards. Just you."
I keep my face carefully blank, ignoring the way my pulse kicks up. "You have concerns about the rest of the security team?"
"No." Damiano's eyes narrow slightly. "But she trusts you. And after last night, trust is what she needs most."
I nod once, sharply. "Understood."
"There's something else." Damiano slides a folder across the desk. "Intelligence suggests this is just the beginning. The Volkovs are making moves, consolidating power. They've been quiet too long."
I take the folder but don't open it. "You think they're planning something bigger."
"I know they are." Damiano's voice is steel.
I follow Damiano into the Venetian Rose's executive conference room, my eyes automatically scanning for threats.
The casino feels different in daylight, emptier, with the glamour stripped away to reveal the business beneath.
Yellow police tape still cordons off sections of the main floor where blood stained the marble last night.
Enzo and Alessio are already seated at the table. Enzo's face is a mask of controlled fury, while Alessio maintains his usual calculating calm. Neither looks like they've slept much.
"Gentlemen," Damiano says, taking his place at the head of the table. No pleasantries, no small talk. That's how I know this is serious.
I position myself slightly behind Damiano's right shoulder, standing rather than sitting.
"The situation is worse than we thought," Damiano begins, placing his palms flat on the table. "The Gaming Commission has suspended our license pending investigation."
"Fucking bureaucrats," Enzo mutters, cracking his knuckles.
"They've been looking for an excuse. Last night handed it to them." Alessio says.
"Exactly," Damiano confirms. "The attack gave them the perfect opportunity. They're claiming public safety concerns, potential ties to organized crime?—"
"Which they've conveniently overlooked for years while taking our contributions," Enzo cuts in.
"The commissioner called me personally this morning," Damiano continues. "They're expediting the investigation, but we all know what that means."
"They want money," Alessio states flatly.
Damiano nods. "Ten million. Cash. To 'expedite' the reopening process and ensure the investigation finds no lasting concerns."
I shift my stance slightly as the conference room door flies open. Riccardo Sartori storms in with his brother Bruno following close behind. The temperature in the room drops ten degrees instantly.
"What the fuck happened last night, Damiano?" Riccardo demands without preamble.
I maintain my position but subtly adjust my weight, ready to move if needed. The Sartoris aren't enemies, but angry men make unpredictable decisions.
Damiano rises slowly, a calculated move that forces Riccardo to look up at him. "Riccardo. I was about to call you."
"Save it," Riccardo snaps. "My phone's been ringing since dawn. The Gaming Commission, the police, our investors. All asking questions I don't have answers to."
Bruno Sartori, younger and more volatile than his brother, slams his palm on the conference table. "Our family name is on that casino too. This isn't just your problem."
Enzo straightens in his chair, his eyes narrowing at Bruno's outburst. I catch the subtle way Alessio shifts, positioning himself to intercept if Enzo decides to respond more directly.
"Sit down," Damiano says, his voice quiet but carrying an edge that could cut glass. "Both of you."
To my surprise, they comply. Riccardo takes the seat directly across from Damiano, while Bruno remains standing behind him, mirroring my position.
"The Gaming Commission has suspended our license," Damiano explains, repeating what he'd just told us. "They want ten million to make this go away quickly."
"Ten million?" Riccardo's eyebrows shoot up. "Those greedy bastards. And what about the shooters? Do we know who sent them?"
"That's what I'd like to know," Bruno interjects before Damiano can answer. "Because this looks like a Feretti problem spilling over onto Sartori territory."
The tension in the room thickens. I notice Enzo's hand drop below the table, likely resting near his weapon.
"We've been partners," Riccardo says, his voice calmer but no less intense. "Equal partners. I deserve to know what's happening, Damiano. What's going on with the Volkovs? Is this retaliation for Ivan?"
Damiano's expression doesn't change, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes. He glances briefly at Bruno, then at me, before returning his attention to Riccardo.
"We'll discuss the Volkovs," Damiano says carefully, "but not here. Not now."
"Bullshit," Bruno spits. "Your family feud is costing us millions."
"Bruno," Riccardo warns, holding up a hand to silence him. He leans forward, locking eyes with Damiano. "The casino was supposed to be neutral ground. Safe. Now we have dead bodies on the floor and the Gaming Commission breathing down our necks. This partnership only works with transparency."
Damiano remains silent for a moment, then nods once. "You're right. But this conversation needs to happen between you and me alone, Riccardo."
The door closes behind the Sartoris with a heavy click. I maintain my position, watching as Damiano's shoulders drop a fraction—the only sign of tension he allows himself to show.
"That went well," Enzo says, voice dripping with sarcasm. He leans back in his chair, but his body remains coiled tight, ready to spring.
Damiano returns to his seat at the head of the table. "Bruno's always been a hothead."
"He's getting worse," Alessio notes, his calculating gaze fixed on Damiano.
I stay standing, my back to the wall, observing. This is family business, and while I'm trusted enough to be in the room, I know my place.
"The situation is more complicated than I initially explained," Damiano says after a moment. He runs a hand over his face—another rare display of fatigue. "The Gaming Commission isn't just demanding money."
Enzo leans forward. "What else?"
"They want a joint security plan signed by both families. Detailed protocols, background checks on all security personnel, quarterly audits." Damiano's eyes flick to me. "They're using this incident to get deeper access to our operations."
"That's a problem," Alessio says quietly.
I nod in agreement. A security plan with that level of detail would expose vulnerabilities, personnel information, and potentially compromise our ability to operate effectively.
"It gets worse," Damiano continues. "The Sartoris are leveraging this crisis. Riccardo called me privately before barging in here with Bruno."
The room goes still. I've been around the Ferettis long enough to recognize when something significant is about to drop.
"They're demanding a renegotiation of our partnership agreement. A 50-50 profit split on all casino operations."
"Fuck that," Enzo snaps, slamming his fist on the table. "We built that casino. We secured the permits, paid off the right people. They just provided additional capital."
"I'm not done. They want something else," Damiano says, his voice dropping lower. "A marriage bond."
The air leaves the room. I keep my face carefully blank, but my mind races ahead, connecting dots.
"Lucrezia," Alessio states flatly. Not a question.
Damiano nods once.
My hands clench involuntarily at my sides. I force them to relax, grateful I'm standing behind Damiano where he can't see my reaction.
"Absolutely fucking not," Enzo growls, rising halfway out of his chair. "After everything she's been through? You can't seriously be considering this."
"I'm not," Damiano says sharply. "But we need to understand what we're dealing with. The Sartoris see an opportunity and they're taking it. Riccardo said that Bruno is the one who she can marry."
"She'd never agree to it," Enzo says. "And I'd put a bullet in Bruno's head before letting him near her."
I stand against the wall, my face a mask of professional indifference while rage builds inside me like a pressure cooker. Every muscle in my body tenses as I listen to them.
"The Gaming Commission gave us one week to comply with their demands," Damiano continues. "If we don't have an agreement with the Sartoris by then, we lose the license permanently."
One week. The timeline makes my blood run cold.
"We need alternatives," Alessio says, his thumb tracing his bottom lip thoughtfully. "What leverage do we have?"
I should speak up. Offer tactical insights. That's my job. But all I can think about is Bruno Sartori's smug face when he stormed in here, how he'd looked around the room like he already owned it. How he'd be looking at Lucrezia if they forced this marriage on her.
My trigger finger twitches.
"Daniel." Damiano's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You've been quiet."
I clear my throat. "Sir?"
"Your assessment of the situation."
I force myself to think like the security chief I am, not the man who wants to put a bullet between Bruno Sartori's eyes just for having the audacity to think he could claim Lucrezia.
"The Sartoris are exploiting a vulnerability," I say, my voice steady despite the rage churning in my gut. "They know we're dealing with the Volkov threat and can't afford a war on two fronts."
"Exactly," Damiano nods.
"But," I continue, choosing my words carefully, "using Miss Feretti as a bargaining chip would be... inadvisable."
Enzo snorts. "That's putting it mildly."
"Lucrezia is still recovering," I say, fighting to keep my tone neutral and professional. "Forcing her into a marriage would be detrimental to her progress."
"I agree," Damiano says firmly. "Lucrezia is not on the table. We'll find another way."
Relief floods through me, but it's short-lived.
"The problem is," Alessio interjects, "the Sartoris know we're vulnerable right now. With the Volkovs making moves and the casino license in jeopardy, they think they can force our hand."
"Let them try," Enzo growls.
I shift my weight, struggling to maintain my professional demeanor when every instinct screams for action.
These men—all of them—are discussing Lucrezia's fate while she's not even in the room.
Even Damiano, who just said she's "not on the table," is still treating her like an asset to be protected rather than a person with her own agency.
And I'm standing here, silent, when I should be?—
What? What should I be doing? Telling Damiano Feretti how to run his family? Challenging his authority? That would end with me dead or fired, neither of which would help Lucrezia.