Rescued by Darkness

The Fire Ignites

Lorenzo didn't sleep that night.

The estate was cloaked in shadows, the thick silence broken only by the occasional radio chatter from guards positioned at every entry point. He'd tightened security, positioned men with explicit orders to defend at any cost, and sent a clear message that tonight, the D'Angelo family would not be caught unprepared. The Russian mafia had been reckless in its encroachment, and Lorenzo was determined to make them regret it.

He moved through the hallways, his steps silent and purposeful. Despite the hour, he couldn't resist one more glance at Luciana. He entered the nursery, his powerful presence momentarily softening as he saw her tiny figure bundled beneath a blanket, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of peaceful sleep. Leaning over, he brushed a gentle hand across her forehead.

"This world may be dangerous, my little one," he whispered, "but you will never know fear as long as I am here."

Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pocket. The message flashed on the screen: "Movement near the west perimeter."

The thrill of adrenaline surged through him. Leaving Luciana's room, he moved with determination, heading toward the command center he'd set up in his private office. He pressed a button on his desk, bringing up a screen that displayed security footage from the various camera feeds positioned along the estate's perimeter.

The camera panned across the west side, catching faint movement—a flicker of shadows along the treeline, as if ghosts were shifting in the night. But these weren't specters; they were Russian scouts, testing his defenses.

"They're probing us," Nico said, entering the room quietly, his expression grim. The eldest son had stationed himself at his father's side, his intense blue eyes fixed on the monitor. "If they're bold enough to come this close, they might have more men than we anticipated."

Lorenzo nodded, his eyes narrowing as he watched the figures creep through the camera feed. "This isn't a test. They're here to strike."

Within minutes, Lorenzo had assembled his sons, each man's expression hard, shoulders taut with tension. Xander, Leo, Mason, and Cassio lined up alongside Nico, their faces a mirror of their father's intensity. Each son had been trained in combat and security, well-versed in the code of their family. Tonight, they'd put it all to the test.

"Listen carefully," Lorenzo began, his voice low but sharp. "The Russians are pushing into our territory—these scouts are only the first wave. They're here to draw us out, to see how we react. We'll split into two teams: I'll lead one, and Nico, you take the other. Leo, you'll stay inside with extra men to cover Alessia and Luciana."

Leo's expression darkened at the mention of his baby sister. "They won't get anywhere near her. I swear it."

"Good." Lorenzo's gaze swept across his sons. "Remember, this isn't just about defending our home. Tonight, we send a message. No one threatens the D'Angelo family."

The men dispersed, each one moving to his designated post. Lorenzo's heart pounded, a grim excitement sharpening his senses as he left the estate's interior and approached the shadows of the treeline. He caught sight of Nico beside him, his son's eyes fierce with purpose.

"Stay sharp," Lorenzo murmured. "They'll likely come in small, tactical groups."

The seconds stretched long, every sound amplified in the stillness. And then, without warning, a group of figures emerged from the shadows, their movements cautious yet hostile. The moment they crossed the perimeter line, Lorenzo raised a hand—a silent signal for his men to hold steady, watching, waiting.

The Russians moved closer, stepping deeper into D'Angelo territory. Lorenzo's jaw clenched, and his gaze flicked to Nico, who gave a brief, affirmative nod. It was time.