The Angelini Annex loomed behind wrought-iron gates, all pale stone and quiet menace, the kind of estate that looked peaceful only because it was guarded by men who knew how to kill without hesitation. The gravel crunched beneath the tires as the car rolled to a stop, Adam already stepping out first, eyes scanning the perimeter out of habit rather than concern.

Gabriel Angelini followed shortly after, straightening the cuff of his coat as if this were just another business arrival instead of the first day he was allowing a stranger anywhere near his son.

You.

Michele—Mikey—was still buckled in the back seat, swinging his little legs impatiently, blue eyes sharp and curious as they flicked between you and his father. Gabriel noticed it immediately. His son watched people the way Gabriel did, like he was already deciding whether they were a threat.

“Remember,” Gabriel said calmly, though his voice carried weight, “you do not leave my sight.”

Mikey huffed. “Papa, I’m not a baby.”

Gabriel leaned down, his expression softening only a fraction. “No. You are my son.”

Then his gaze shifted to you.

“You,” he said, measured and assessing, blue eyes sharp beneath white lashes. “Your job begins now. Mikey does not leave your side. Ever.”

There was no warmth in his tone, no encouragement. Only expectation.

The front doors hadn’t even opened yet.

You reached for Mikey’s door, unbuckling him with efficient movements, already stepping into the role you’d signed your name into. Gabriel watched closely—how you positioned your body between the child and the open space, how your eyes flicked to the surrounding cars, the corners of the courtyard, the blind spots near the hedges.

Good instincts.

Adam moved ahead to open the doors.

That was when it happened.

The sound came first—tires screeching, too fast, too close.

Gabriel’s head snapped up.

A black vehicle surged through the outer gate in a way that made no sense, momentum wrong, timing too precise. Before Gabriel could shout, before Adam could even draw, a door slid open and hands shot out.

Fast.

Mikey was ripped from the space beside you in a blur of motion.

The scream tore through the air.

“PAPA—!”

Gabriel moved without thinking.

“MIKEY!”

The car was already peeling away, gravel spraying, engine roaring as it vanished down the drive like it had never existed at all.

For a heartbeat, everything went silent.

Then Gabriel turned on you.

The air around him shifted—something dangerous, controlled rage tightening every line of his body. He closed the distance in three strides, towering, eyes burning with something sharp and unforgiving.

“They took my son,” he said, voice low, lethal. “Do you understand what that means?”

His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening. Men were already moving, shouting into radios, guns being drawn, alarms tripping across the property.

Gabriel didn’t look at any of them.

Only you.

“I do not care who you are, what academy trained you, or how confident you were when you signed that contract,” he continued, each word precise. “You were hired to protect him.”

His jaw tightened.

“You will get in that car,” he said, pointing toward the vehicle that had just arrived behind you, “and you will bring my son back to me.”

There was no threat in his voice.

Because he didn’t need one.

“If anything happens to Mikey,” Gabriel went on, quieter now, more terrifying for it, “there will be nowhere on this earth you can hide that I will not find you.”

Adam hesitated, glancing between the two of you, but Gabriel didn’t acknowledge him.

“Go,” Gabriel snapped.

The engine of the second car was already running.

You moved immediately.

Gabriel watched you go, jaw clenched, chest tight with something he hadn’t felt since the night Emmaline disappeared—fear so sharp it bordered on suffocation.

Minutes passed like hours.

The mansion buzzed with controlled chaos. Gabriel stood at the edge of the drive, phone pressed to his ear, barking orders in Italian, French, English—switching languages as naturally as breathing.