Turo
The sound rips through the house like a knife, sharp and deafening. The alarm shrieks as if the walls themselves are screaming, warning everyone within earshot that something’s wrong.
But this isn’t just the usual alert. This is different. This is real. The way the system hums through my blood. The way the color drains from my vision, leaving only the target.
I’m already moving before the second shriek hits. In the space of a breath, I’m out the door. My heart isn’t racing. My mind’s too calm for panic, too sharp for fear. But my body reacts before I can think, muscle memory kicking in. There’s no hesitation.
Down the hallway. Past the shadowed rooms of the estate. Everything feels too quiet now. The silence is suffocating in a way I’m not used to. The men outside are already in position.
But not all of them.
I push through the security door. The command center is cold, sterile, and full of screens, all flashing in synchronized chaos.
The team’s already moving. The head of security, a man I’ve known for years, is standing by the farthest monitor, watching the feed with narrowed eyes.
His face is hard as steel, but there’s a nervous energy in the air.
He hasn’t seen the magnitude of this before.
“Southwest perimeter,” he says, voice clipped, eyes flicking to the screen. “Three contacts. Armed. Professional.”
Professional. Not random. Not a test. Coordinated.
I study the screens. Our people are in place, scattered across the grounds. There’s a tightness in the way they move. Precise. Ready. But the way the intruders are acting, it’s not a mistake. They’re not here just to test our defenses. They’re here to break in.
My hand tightens on the edge of the table. I flick through the cameras, confirming my worst fear: the family wing is locked down, as expected. Lucia’s figure is visible through the window, standing guard over Nico’s door. She’s exactly where she needs to be.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Focus on the perimeter teams,” I order. “Secondary detail to family wing. No one gets past the main house.”
The moment I give the order, it’s like a switch flips. My men hit their positions. The cameras blur for a second as I watch them move into the trees, into the blind spots. I can see them closing in on the targets. The sound of gunfire cuts through the static. A brief, brutal exchange of shots.
A quick flash of movement on the screen… a retreat. Two of them running. But the third doesn’t move. He’s down.
I don’t blink, don’t waste time with anything else. This isn’t a game. The intruders are skilled; they know what they’re doing. The fact that they didn’t wait around to finish it doesn’t sit right with me.
The response teams pursue, but I don’t have high hopes of catching them. They retreat too quickly, disappearing into the shadows like ghosts. By the time they reach the property line, the trail goes cold.
The call comes through: “All clear, sir. Twenty minutes from breach to clearance.”
“Hold perimeter,” I growl into the phone. “No one leaves until I say so.”
I don’t trust anyone else to confirm that the family wing is safe. Not after this. I turn, heading for the door, moving as quickly as I can, but still measured, controlled. This isn’t just a security threat. This is personal.
When I reach the family wing, I find the guards already stationed outside Nico’s door, vigilant, poised.
I don’t trust anyone else, but I trust the men who’ve been with me through everything.
They’ve been in this world longer than they’ve been in mine.
And they know what it means to protect what matters.
I push the door open, taking in the quiet of the room. Nico is asleep. Thank God. I step closer, careful not to wake him. He’s tucked in, his little body so small in that massive bed, hands curled under his cheek. The only sound is his steady breathing. The air is thick with relief.
I’m about to leave, but then I see Lucia standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, hand clutching the doorknob like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
Her face softens when she sees him, her son, her heart. “Is it over?” she asks, her voice fragile, but steady enough that it cuts through the tension in the room.
“For now,” I answer. It’s the best I can do.
I turn and leave the room first, so she can follow me. My mind is still moving a thousand miles a minute. The attack. The retreat. The chase. The way it almost turned into something else. The way they knew when to strike. I can’t shake it. I don’t trust this. It doesn’t add up.
The door to the hallway shuts softly behind me, but the air feels like it’s charged. Lucia’s still close, walking behind me, but not following exactly. Her steps quieter now. She’s waiting. Watching. Trying to make sense of everything as much as I am.
I’m already thinking ahead, weighing the risk, the damage, the unknowns. I know where the attack came from. I know who was behind it. I know they’re still out there.
But the question is: why tonight? Why now?
Then it hits me. I made a promise. To her. To Nico. I promised things would be different. But the closer I get to the answer, the more it feels like I’m slipping back into the same cycle my father built around me.
I can’t do that. I can’t be that.
“Did you hear?” Lucia’s voice cuts through the haze. She’s standing a few feet away, her posture guarded, but I know she’s trying to connect the dots, too. She always does.
“Not yet,” I reply, already operating on instinct. "What did you hear?"
Her eyes flick to the hallway, then back to me. She’s hesitating, like there’s something she needs to say but isn’t sure how to.
“I saw Enzo,” she says, her voice quieter now, like the name carries weight. “Earlier, in the hallway. He was on the phone. It was… strange.”
I stop. Enzo. My oldest friend. The one who’s always been too eager to jump into action. Too eager to manage things. Too eager to clean up messes.
I’m already thinking of the conversation I had with him earlier. The one that felt off. The way he quickly dismissed my questions, the too-smooth answers.
“Strange how?” I ask, voice low, controlled.
She hesitates. “He was talking in Italian... but it was more than that. The words I caught. ‘Leverage’... ‘the boy’... ‘timing...’” She’s watching me carefully now, waiting for me to respond.
The world shifts under my feet. The blood drains from my face.
Leverage.
Timing.
The way he hung up just before she walked into the room… the way he was too quick to shut it down.
I’ve known Enzo for too long. Seen him operate in the shadows. Made the same calculations he has.
I don’t need to hear more. This isn’t just a test.
It’s a game.
And someone is playing me.
“Business, Lucia,” I murmur, my voice too calm for what I’m feeling. “Just business. Nothing to worry about.”
I don’t believe it. Not for a second. But I need her to believe it.
“Are you sure?” Her voice shakes slightly, but her eyes are clear. She’s worried. Too worried.
I don’t answer right away. I can’t. I just file it away. For now. Until the moment I can get my hands around it. The moment I have proof.
But until then, I keep moving.
I walk with purpose, my mind running faster than my feet. It's a pattern forming. One I don’t want to face but can’t avoid anymore.
And as we make our way back to the command center to start the sweep for sabotage, I can’t help but feel it.
I’m already at war.
And this war has just turned on me.
The pieces are moving, and I’ve only just realized that Enzo’s been holding the board.