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I stood too, pulling the little ones behind me, trying to reach for Mikhail, but he refused to move, “Mikhail…”

“Stay behind Mom,” he said without breaking eye contact with Antonio.

“I told you to keep them inside !” Antonio roared, turning to the men who had chased the boys.

“Sorry, boss, they attacked us when they heard the screams,” one stammered—and those were his last words.

Antonio drew his gun and fired several shots into the man’s chest. I screamed, reaching for Mikhail’s shirt to drag him back, but he wouldn’t budge.

If anything, he stood taller—arms spread to shield us.

Antonio sighed and raised his gun again. “You hit almost as well as your father… but not as well as your uncles,” he sneered.

“You promised to let them go if I came ! You promised !” I cried, trying to step in front of my son, but he held me back.

Antonio laughed darkly. “Ah,Cara mia, your naïveté is still what I love most about you. To see that, despite all your suffering, you remained so pure… it excites me beyond words!”

Nausea surged, but I swallowed it down. Focus, Selina. Stay calm. Ferna is here. Nikolai is coming.

He always comes.

“Enough games. It’s time to go home. Pity—you’d have made a fine soldier for theCosaNostra, boy. But you look far too much like your bastard of a father,” he sneered—and I understood.

Adrenaline shot through me. The gunshot rang out, and I shoved Mikhail just in time to the ground.

Not fast enough.

“Mikhail !” I screamed as his blood blossomed across his shirt. The bullet had pierced his shoulder—not his chest—but it was still grave, especially for a boy his age.

“Mikhail,” I repeated, pressing both hands to the wound, making him moan.

“It’s going to be okay, my baby, it’s going to be okay,” I wept as the boys surrounded us.

“Mama ! Here, Mama !” Alexei cried, tearing off his T-shirt and handing it to me. I pressed it firmly against the wound.

“Everything will be fine, I promise you,” I whispered, tears blinding me, my hands and clothes drenched in my son’s blood.

“Don’t cry, Mama,” Mikhail murmured, but I shook my head.

“Shh, my angel, don’t speak. Don’t tire yourself,” I whispered, stroking his hair.

“Seems these damn Ivanovs are unkillable,” Antonio growled as he stepped toward us. “Let’s go,Caramia,” he said, grabbing my arm and yanking me upright—but a hand latched onto mine, holding me back.

“Mikhail,” I breathed, seeing his fingers tighten around mine. “Don’t touch my mother, asshole,” he spat.

“Unkillable and stubborn,” Antonio muttered, tugging harder on my arm, prying me from my son’s grasp.

“Alexei ! Press on the wound ! Hard !” I shouted as Antonio dragged me away.

Alexei obeyed, while Rafael and Andrei clutched at my shirt, trying to pull me back.

“Let go of Mama !”

But nothing worked. Antonio dragged me toward a car, my feet skidding over the gravel.

“Let go of me ! Let go of me !” I screamed, fought, clawed, bit.

Ferna was here.