Rescued by Darkness

Cold Fear

Lorenzo's hands trembled as he cradled Luciana's tiny body, her bruised and battered face too still in his arms. For a heart-stopping moment, everything around him blurred—the chaos, the blood, the aftermath of the gunfight—nothing mattered. All he could see was the lifeless way 

Luciana lay, her eyes closed, her small chest frighteningly still.

"No... no," Alessia's voice cracked beside him, her face pale with fear. She reached out desperately, brushing a trembling hand over Luciana's cheek. "Lorenzo... she's not breathing. Oh God, she's not breathing!"

Lorenzo's heart felt as though it had stopped in his chest. Everything in him—the cold, hardened mafia boss, the ruthless man who had just slaughtered every last one of the Russians—crumbled. The only sound in his ears was the deafening silence coming from Luciana.

"She's not dead," Lorenzo growled, though his voice shook with a fear he hadn't felt since he was a child. "She's not."

But she wasn't moving. Not a twitch. Not a sound.

His mind raced as he laid her gently on the floor, pressing two fingers to the side of her neck, searching for a pulse. Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity, as he waited for any sign of life.

"Come on, Luciana... fight," he whispered, barely hearing his own voice over the blood roaring in his ears. "Stay with me, principessa. Daddy's here. I'm here."

Alessia knelt beside him, tears streaming down her face as she rocked back and forth, her hands trembling uncontrollably. "Please, Lorenzo... do something!" she begged.

He pressed his hand to Luciana's tiny chest, the absence of movement like a knife twisting in his gut. He had never felt so helpless, not in his entire life. Luciana was everything now, his precious daughter, the one person who had made him smile in his darkest moments. She couldn't be gone. Not like this.

Suddenly, a small gasp escaped her lips, a faint sound, but enough to pull him from the edge of despair.

"She's breathing!" Lorenzo shouted, his heart leaping as Luciana's chest began to rise and fall, weak but steady.

Alessia let out a sob of relief, her hands covering her face as the tension released in a flood of emotions. "Thank God... thank God!"

Lorenzo scooped Luciana back into his arms, his hand cupping the back of her head, holding her close to his chest. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his heart still pounding in his chest, but this time with overwhelming relief.

"She's going to be okay," Lorenzo whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "She's going to be fine."

But the relief was short-lived. As he looked down at her fragile body, covered in bruises, his rage reignited with a fury that burned through every fiber of his being. The Russians had crossed a line, and they had nearly taken away the one person who had become his heart.

Alessia wiped her tears, her eyes wide with lingering fear as she looked at Lorenzo. "We need to get her to a doctor. What if... what if she's hurt worse than we think?"

Lorenzo nodded, his jaw set. "We will. We'll make sure she's okay."

But his mind was already shifting gears, planning his next move. Luciana's safety would never be compromised again. They would up security, double the guards, and hunt down the rat who had sold them out to the Russians. Whoever it was had just signed their death warrant.

He stood, carrying Luciana as if she weighed nothing, his broad shoulders tense, his hazel eyes hardening once again. There was no room for error now. This was personal. He would rain hellfire down on the men who had dared to touch his daughter.