Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the Rossi Syndicate
(Suggested Facebook Hook: The glass shattered, and the mafia boss threw his body over her. But as the smoke cleared, Liana realized the assassin wasn't targeting the boss—they were targeting the baby!)
The alarm klaxons wailed through the mansion, a deafening, rhythmic shriek. Red emergency lights flickered on, bathing the study in a bloody glow.
Matteo was a wolf awakened. He pulled a silver desert eagle from his waistband, his eyes scanning the shattered window. Outside, the sound of automatic gunfire echoed as his guards engaged the attackers.
"Stay here! Under the desk!" Matteo commanded, his voice dripping with lethal authority.
"Don't leave us!" Liana gasped, wrapping her arms tightly around Nico, who had begun to wail in terror.
But Matteo was already moving. He vaulted through the broken window into the pouring rain, his gun firing rapidly into the darkness.
Liana crawled under the heavy oak desk, her heart hammering against her ribs. She pressed Nico’s head to her chest, humming the lullaby she had sung to her own dying boy. “Sleep now, little star, the dark cannot catch you...”
Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors of the study kicked open.
Liana held her breath. Through the gaps in the desk paneling, she saw a pair of heavy, muddy combat boots. The intruder wasn't wearing the uniform of Matteo’s guards. He held a silenced submachine gun, sweeping the room.
He was looking for the baby.
Liana’s eyes fell on a heavy brass paperweight on the lower shelf of the desk. Her hands trembled, but her mother’s instinct took over. This man was here to kill the child who had just saved her soul.
The boots stepped closer to the desk.
Liana waited until the man bent down to peer underneath.
With a guttural scream, Liana slammed the heavy brass paperweight directly into the man’s temple.
The crack of bone was sickening. The assassin gasped, dropping his gun, and stumbled backward. Liana didn't hesitate. She scrambled out from under the desk, grabbed the fallen submachine gun—having no idea how to use it—and pointed it at him, her body shaking violently.
"Get away from him!" she screamed.
The assassin, blood streaming down his face, stared at her in shock. He smiled a bloody, grotesque smile. "You... you don't know who he is, do you? The boy... he isn't Clara’s..."
Before the assassin could finish his sentence, a loud bang echoed through the room.
The man’s chest exploded in a spray of red. He fell backward, dead.
Matteo stood in the doorway, his gun smoking, his eyes wild and predatory. He looked at Liana, who was standing over the dead body, holding a weapon, fiercely protecting his son.
"Are you hurt?" Matteo breathed, rushing to her side.
"He... he said the baby isn't Clara’s," Liana whispered, her voice cracking. "What did he mean, Matteo?"
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Matteo’s face paled, a rare expression of pure vulnerability crossing his rugged features. "He was trying to play mind games, Liana. Forget what he said."
But Liana saw the lie in his eyes.
