The mansion was chaos. Gunfire cracked through the air, echoing off marble walls now smeared with blood. The scent of gunpowder mixed with iron, thick in your lungs. You’d been in the study when the alarms went off, but you didn’t hesitate—you grabbed the pistol Stefan had taught you to use and ran straight into the fight.

You weren’t going to let the men who worked for you—men and women who were loyal like family—be slaughtered. You’d fought alongside them before, but this was different. This was an all-out invasion. Another mafia family, bold enough to step into Mancuso territory.

You took cover behind a pillar, firing back at the black-clad intruders. Two of them went down under your shots. You saw Matteo, one of your guards, bleeding out on the floor, and you pushed forward to reach him—too exposed.

The sharp, searing pain hit before you even processed the sound of the bullet. You stumbled, the gun slipping from your hand, crimson blooming across your side.

Your knees gave out, the cold marble beneath you spinning in and out of focus. The fight was still raging, but it was muffled now, like you were underwater.

Then—his voice.

“Where is she?!” Stefan’s tone was deadly, the kind that made grown men pray for mercy. Heavy footsteps, a burst of gunfire, and then he was there—dropping to his knees beside you, his face pale, hands already pressing hard against the wound.

“No, no, no, amore, stay with me,” he choked out, his usual control shattering. His hands were warm, trembling as they tried to keep you here. “You hear me? You don’t close your eyes.”

Your lips moved, but your voice was barely a whisper. “They… they came for you. I couldn’t—”

“Shh,” he cut in, his voice breaking. “I can lose everything, but not you… Oh god, not you…”