The silence in the Moretti dining room shattered instantly. Rocco's words hung in the heavy air like a loaded weapon.

Clang! Crash! Shards of bulletproof glass rained across the Persian rug as high-caliber rounds tore through the study walls.

"The perimeter defenses didn't trigger an alarm," Sophia whispered, her heart pounding, though her hands remained completely steady. "The master grid wasn't breached from the outside. Someone disabled the firewall from the internal terminal in the basement server room."

Rocco’s expression hardened into pure granite. "An insider. Again." He reached into his shoulder holster, pulling out his custom Sig Sauer and slapping a fresh magazine into place. "Sophia, listen to me carefully. Take the emergency tunnel key from under the desk. Go down to the panic shelter, lock Elena and Leo inside, and do not open it for anyone—even me—unless you hear three distinct knocks followed by my family crest whistle."

"I'm not leaving you here to fight alone," Sophia said fiercely, her eyes burning with the same raw courage she had shown at eight years old.

"This isn't a debate, Sophia. My son needs a guardian, and right now, that is you!" Rocco commanded, his voice dropping into a tone that brooked no argument. He pushed her toward the concealed floor hatch behind the bookshelf. "Go!"

Sophia hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded firmly. She grabbed a heavy tactical flashlight from the desk shelf, dropped into the dark concrete tunnel, and pulled the heavy steel hatch shut above her.

Rocco stood up from behind the desk, racking the slide of his pistol. He stepped out into the dark, smoke-filled hallway, his eyes fixed on the grand staircase. "Dominic," Rocco called out into the shadows, his voice echoing with deadly calm. "Come out and face me, you coward!"