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The assault is collapsing.

And I’m trapped in the center of it.

Movement catches my eye through the smoke. A figure approaching from the direction of the main house—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with lethal purpose. I raise my rifle, finger on the trigger, but the smoke shifts and he’s gone.

Like a ghost.

Marco?

My radio crackles again, Ettore’s voice urgent: “Aria, get out of there. Something’s wrong with this whole operation. They’re playing with us.”

He’s right. Marco’s soldiers were supposed to be elite, but they’re retreating like amateurs.

Unless they’re not retreating.

Unless they’re clearing a path.

The gunfire is moving away from me now, following my men toward the outer walls. The smoke is beginning to thin. And suddenly, impossibly, I find myself alone in the courtyard with nothing but silence and the distant sound of my army being systematically dismantled.

The main house looms ahead of me—massive, imposing, its windows dark except for a single light in what I know is Marco’s study. The front door stands slightly ajar, spilling golden light across the marble steps.

An invitation.

Or a trap.

Probably both.

But what choice do I have? My bodyguards are scattered. My assault teams are in full retreat.

The only way to safety is through that door.

I check my gun—fully loaded, safety off. My hands are steadier than they should be, considering I’m about to enter the lion’s den.

Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones. Maybe it’s pure fury.

Maybe it’s the certainty that this was always how it would end.

Just me and him.

No armies. No allies. No lies.

As I climb toward the front door, the marble steps are slick with dew. Behind me, the sounds of battle grow more distant.

They’ll be fine. Marco doesn’t want to destroy my army. He wants to humiliate it. To prove that even my best efforts can’t touch him.

To prove that I need him more than I need my war.

I reach the front door and pause, rifle raised, finger on the trigger. The golden light spills across my boots, warm and welcoming. Like coming home.

I push the door open.

The foyer is empty.

No sign of life.

He’s here. Somewhere. Waiting.

The radio on my belt crackles one final time. Ettore’s voice, urgent and confused: “Aria, this doesn’t make sense. Why would they let you into the main house? Why clear a path? It’s like they want you inside.”