Rescued by Darkness

The Storm Unleashed

Lorenzo stood by the window in his office, his sharp hazel eyes scanning the estate grounds below. Everything seemed in place—his men were stationed at every post, alert and ready, as they should be. His mansion, a fortress of protection and power, was where he had always kept his family safe.

But today, something gnawed at him. A sixth sense, an instinct that told him something was wrong. He couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that had been with him all morning.

His phone buzzed on the desk behind him, and he turned, picking it up casually—until he saw the name flashing across the screen.

Rocco.

The grip on his phone tightened as he answered. "What is it?" Lorenzo's voice was a low, controlled growl, though every muscle in his body had tensed. Rocco wasn't one to call unless it was serious.

There was a hesitation on the other end of the line, a moment too long, and Lorenzo's heart plummeted.

"Boss," Rocco's voice was grave, almost hollow. "There's been an incident."

Lorenzo's blood ran cold. "What incident?"

"They took them. Alessia and—"

A roar erupted from deep inside Lorenzo before Rocco could finish. The glass in his hand shattered, the shards embedding into his palm, but he didn't feel the pain. His vision went red, heart hammering as the name echoed in his head: Luciana.

"Who?" he growled, fury radiating off him like heat. "Who dared to touch them?"

"The Russians," Rocco said, his tone somber but steady. "They got through, somehow. It happened while Alessia and Luciana were out with one of the guards."

Lorenzo slammed his fist against the desk, splintering the wood beneath his palm. His body trembled with rage, every muscle in him ready to tear apart whoever was responsible for this. He could feel his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest, the weight of the betrayal sinking in like an anchor.

The Russians.

He knew things with them had been tense lately, but an attack like this—on his wife, on his daughter—this was beyond business. This was personal.

"How?" His voice was low, dangerously calm, the calm before the storm. "How did they get past our men?"

"There's another rat, Lorenzo," Rocco said. "I'm certain of it. No one could have gotten that close without help from the inside."

A rat.

Lorenzo's teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. The betrayal only stoked the fire already burning inside him. Whoever had turned on his family would wish they had never been born by the time he was finished with them.

"I'm on my way," Lorenzo said, already moving toward the door. "Find out where they are. Get every man we have on this."

"We're already tracking them," Rocco replied. "I'll update you the second we have a location."

Lorenzo didn't even hang up before storming out of the office, his mind racing with every terrible possibility. **Alessia... Luciana.**

The thought of his little girl, only a few months old, in the hands of men who had no conscience, no humanity, made Lorenzo sick. Luciana had already been through so much when he found her; the thought of her being hurt again was unbearable.

He marched toward the armory, his men falling in line behind him, their faces grim as they watched their leader transform from a businessman to the ruthless mafia boss who had built an empire from the ground up. The fury in Lorenzo's eyes was unmatched, a fire that would only be quenched when he had Alessia and Luciana back in his arms—and the men responsible for this suffering at his feet.

As he loaded his gun, the image of Luciana's tiny, innocent face flashed through his mind. The way she had started to warm to him, the way she clung to him whenever she was afraid. She had come into his life unexpectedly, a baby girl who had stolen his heart, a princess he never knew he needed until she was there.

Lorenzo had grown used to being a protector—a father to his boys—but Luciana was different. She needed him in ways his sons never had, and Lorenzo had promised himself he would keep her safe, no matter the cost. And now, someone had dared to take her away.

His mind raced with thoughts of Alessia too—his wife, the woman who had stood by his side through everything. She was strong, but this... this was beyond any danger they had ever faced. He imagined her fear, her desperation, and it fueled his rage further.

The estate was in a frenzy. Lorenzo's orders were swift, precise. More men. More surveillance. No stone left unturned.

As they prepared to leave, Rocco came running toward him, phone in hand. "We've got a location," Rocco said. "An old warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It's them."

Lorenzo nodded, his face a mask of deadly calm. "Let's go," he said, his voice a low rumble. "And when we find them, kill anyone who stands in our way."

His men sprang into action, but as they moved, Lorenzo paused, turning his gaze back toward the master suite. For just a brief moment, he allowed himself to picture Luciana in her crib, the peaceful rise and fall of her little chest as she slept, unaware of the dark world she had been born into. His heart softened for an instant, a memory of holding her close, of being her protector.

But just as quickly, his expression hardened once more. There would be no mercy for those who had hurt his family.

The storm was coming. And Lorenzo D'Angelo was at its center.