Marco clicked off the safety on his gun, his fingers steady despite the fire burning inside him.
His childhood home. The house held nothing but ghosts and scars, but tonight, none of that mattered.
Matteo was in there.
And Marco knew this place better than anyone.
“We go in now,” he said, his voice low, lethal.
Luca gave a sharp nod, adjusting his grip on his gun.
Carmen inhaled shakily beside them, her knife clutched so tightly her knuckles turned white.
“Marco,” she whispered, fear creeping into her voice. “What if—”
“No what-ifs,” Marco cut in, his tone unyielding. “We get him. We end this.”
And then they moved.
Marco led the way, moving like a shadow through the overgrown garden, his every step calculated.
He remembered every corridor, every weak spot in the walls, every hidden passage.
As a child, he had used them to escape. Now, he would use them to invade.
A guard stood near the back entrance. One bullet, clean shot to the head. He dropped.
Luca grabbed another from behind, snapping his neck in one swift motion.
Carmen barely breathed, her heart hammering.
Then—
Gunfire erupted.
More guards rushed toward them, shouting, bullets whizzing past.
Marco didn’t flinch. He turned and fired, taking two down instantly.
Luca moved fast, precise—one shot, one kill.
Carmen dodged behind a pillar as a man swung at her. She sidestepped, slashing her knife across his throat.
The guard collapsed, choking on his own blood.
They pushed forward, room by room, taking down everyone in their way.
Marco’s mind was locked on one thing—
Matteo.
“We need to move faster,” Carmen panted, her knife dripping red.
Marco gritted his teeth. He knew she was right. Every second wasted was another second Matteo spent with her.
Ella.
The woman who had taken his son. The woman who had stolen his mind.
“Stay close,” Marco ordered, leading them down another hall.
They turned a corner and—
The gunfire stopped.
Silence.
Marco’s breathing was heavy, controlled. The hallway was empty. Too empty.
A cold feeling crept into his chest.
“Where the hell is he?” Luca muttered.
They reached the grand staircase. Marco knew where to go. The office. He had been in that office countless times as a child.
And if Matteo was anywhere, it would be there.
He took the steps two at a time.
Then—he kicked the door open.
Matteo—But No Ella
Marco’s gun was raised, finger on the trigger, ready to fire—
But the office was empty. Except for Matteo.
His small body was curled up in the corner of the room, his tiny hands gripping his knees.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. His shoulders shook violently, soft, broken sobs escaping his lips.
Carmen let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening.
“Matteo,” she whispered.
He didn’t look up. Didn’t react. Didn’t run to her. Marco lowered his gun, his heart pounding. Something was wrong.
Matteo wasn’t just crying.
He looked lost.
Like he didn’t even know where he was. Like he didn’t know them. Carmen dropped to her knees, her voice trembling. “Baby, we’re here.”
Matteo’s breath hitched.
He lifted his head slowly.
His big brown eyes met hers—
And they were full of fear. Carmen’s stomach dropped. “Where is she?” Marco demanded, scanning the room, checking every corner.
Ella was gone.
Vanished.