HIS

Chapter 43

Domenico sprang into action, immediately sending a message to the group to alert them of the situation. A reply came through moments later—backup was already on the way. The Mafia never truly sleeps; there's always someone on duty. Now, all we had to do was figure out how to get out of here safely.

Domenico moved swiftly, whisper-shouting, "Get a jumper and shoes on—hurry!" His face was a mix of panic and focus as he grabbed his clothes from the pile on the floor.
I was dressed and ready in under a minute. Thankfully, I'd showered earlier and chosen a long-sleeved pajama set with pants. If we had to run out into the cold, at least I'd be somewhat covered—even if pajamas aren't exactly made for harsh conditions. You can never be too careful when it comes to the intentions of criminals.

"Who'd be foolish enough to attack a Capo's house?" Domenico muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of disbelief and rising tension.

If a group of highly trained attackers decided to strike, our guards wouldn't stand much of a chance. It's not that they aren't skilled—but with three already down outside, the remaining three wouldn't be able to hold off an armed team. We only had six men on patrol tonight, and that's simply not enough against a coordinated assault.

Domenico had never prioritized heavy security—he lived here alone before I moved in and didn't think to increase it afterward. No guards meant minimal protection, and now we're paying the price. With only a handful of men on duty, we were exposed from the start. I just hope the others arrive soon... and that we make it out of this alive.

I can practically hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, but there's no time to freeze or panic. If we want to get out of here unharmed, we have to rely on ourselves—at least until backup arrives.

Domenico handed me a gun just as the sharp sound of shattering glass echoed through the house, followed by the clatter of shards hitting the tiled floor. We locked eyes, both instantly aware—they were inside. There was no time to waste. Thankfully, the base is only ten minutes away, so help should be arriving soon... hopefully.

Domenico walked over to the balcony window, carefully peeking through to check for any signs of movement. After a moment of scanning the area, he confirmed that nothing seemed to be happening outside—at least, nothing visible.

Domenico motioned for me to come to his side as he quietly opened the balcony door.
"We're not taking any chances," he said in a low, firm voice. "Wait out here on the balcony. I'm going to check the rest of the house. Once I know it's safe, I'll come back for you. I won't let them get into this room—you need to hide."
He gestured for me to step outside; his eyes filled with determination.

"Do you think I'm just going to sit here and let you go alone?" I snapped, frustration rising in my voice. "We're in this together—even if it means facing danger side by side. I won't stay behind, worrying whether you're alive or not. And what if they find me here, alone?"

"You're carrying my child, and I—" Domenico began, but his words were cut short as the bedroom door burst open with a deafening crash. We dropped to the floor instinctively, and the moment three intruders came into view, we opened fire. In seconds, all three collapsed to the ground, motionless.

Domenico swiftly moved to the fallen intruders, disarming each one and confirming they were no longer a threat. Meanwhile, I kept watch from the hallway, scanning for any signs of movement. When he signaled me over, I rushed to his side, and together we stashed some of the weapons under the bed—just in case anyone else broke in. We each grabbed an extra gun, ready for whatever came next.

The way Domenico and I moved together—instinctively, seamlessly—it felt like we'd done this a hundred times before. But in truth, this was only my second time facing something like this.
A strange calm settled over me, washing away the tension I'd been carrying. It was almost surreal, as if my soul had braced itself for whatever was coming. I wasn't frozen in fear—just ready.
It reminded me of the out-of-body feeling I had during the last attack on our way home, only this time, it was stronger.
Domenico signaled for me to follow, and we hurried down the hallway, heading for the bedroom at the far end of the corridor. We slipped inside quickly, relieved to find it empty. For now, it was a safe place to regroup.

Moments later, we heard hurried footsteps pounding up the stairs. Domenico held up two fingers, signaling that two people were approaching. He positioned himself at an angle in the bedroom doorway, tracking their movement, while I took cover behind the door—ready, just in case.

Domenico fired two precise shots, and I heard both bodies hit the floor. He reached behind the door and pulled me forward, and I followed closely as we made our way to the top of the stairs. I discreetly tucked my smaller gun beneath my sports bra—its size and the loose fit of my pajama top made it easy to conceal. Thankfully, I had just enough coverage to keep it hidden.

We moved downstairs as silently as possible; every step deliberate and careful. Outside, the flicker of headlights and the crunch of tires on gravel signaled the arrival of vehicles just meters from the house. I hoped it was our team—but we couldn't be certain until Domenico checked.

As we reach the midpoint of the staircase, the sudden sound of guns being cocked stops us cold. In an instant, eight men surround us. Either I've never truly known the layout of our own house, or these guys are terrifyingly skilled at staying hidden.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Capo himself," says a man whose face bears the scars of teenage acne—most of it masked by a scruffy beard, though the blemishes still peek through. He looks to be in his forties, sporting a slight pot belly that contrasts with his thick, muscular arms. His grin reveals a row of yellowed, crooked teeth, adding to his rough, unpolished appearance.

Domenico pulls me close and asks firmly, "Who are you?"

"Good question," Yellow Teeth replies, his grin as unpleasant as ever. "But there's no time for explanations. The boss doesn't like to be kept waiting." He turns to the others. "Tie them up and get them in the van." Then, glancing at his watch, he smirks and looks back at us. "And don't worry about your crew showing up—they won't be here for another thirty minutes. By then, we'll be long gone." With that, he turns and walks out.

Our eyes were covered, hands bound tightly behind our backs. Minutes later, we're shoved into the back of a panel van. Inside, I can make out the muffled voices of three other men speaking Spanish—clearly, we're not alone in here.

I can feel the adrenaline wearing off now—my body's starting to register the cold, and being tied up and blindfolded isn't exactly helping.

I keep quiet, resisting the urge to ask anything—I don't want to provoke them. At first, I thought Domenico's men were intimidating, but these guys are something else. They're not just dangerous; they're downright vicious. For now, silence feels like the safest path to staying alive.

"Olivia! Are you alright?" Domenico called out with concern.

Before I can respond, one of the men cuts in. "She's fine—for now," he says with a chilling grin. "Don't worry, we'll give her a proper send-off before she closes her eyes for good." The others erupt in laughter, and my heart sinks like a stone in my chest.

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