Page 40 of Auctioned Innocence (Bonds of Betrayal #3)

DANTE

M arco winces as he applies fresh pressure to his shoulder wound, but his eyes remain sharp as he watches Sofia direct his men. All trace of our earlier crisis is locked away behind laser focus. She’s magnificent. Terrifying.

“Teams two and four, flank the east corridor,” she orders through our comms, her voice carrying the same authority I’ve heard from Marco in combat situations.

“They’re trying to herd us toward the vault.

We herd them instead. Team six, I need you to create a distraction at the north entrance—make them think we’re trying to escape that way. ”

“Copy that,” comes the immediate response, and I realize Marco’s men are following her orders without question. Not because she’s the boss’s daughter, but because she’s earned their respect through competence.

Marco catches my eye as we lay down covering fire, favoring his injured arm but still maintaining position. “You taught her that flanking maneuver?”

“She taught herself.” Pride bleeds into my voice as I watch her coordinate a defense that would make military tacticians weep with envy. “I just showed her the angles.”

More explosions rock the building above us, dust and debris raining down through the reinforced ceiling. Sofia doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look up from her laptop as she coordinates our defense from the command center.

“Incoming from the service tunnels!” one of Marco’s men reports through comms.

“Team three, fall back to checkpoint alpha,” Sofia responds immediately, pulling up building schematics to track enemy movement. “I’m sealing tunnel access in three…two…one.”

Metal barriers slam shut throughout the building, trapping several of Lorenzo’s men in compartmentalized sections.

“Their primary comms are compromised,” she reports, scrolling through data streams with one hand while typing commands with the other. “But they’ve got backup channels I’m still tracking down. They’re after the Council records stored here. Lorenzo’s trying to destroy evidence before?—”

The lights flicker as another explosion rocks the foundation. Through our monitors, I watch Lorenzo’s forces breach the main level, moving toward our position.

“Sofia,” Marco warns, checking his ammunition with his good hand. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes before they reach us.”

“Then we don’t give them ten minutes.” Her fingers fly across the keyboard. “Teams five and seven, initiate Protocol Bravo. Draw them into the main ballroom.”

I watch our security feeds as Marco’s men execute her strategy flawlessly—falling back in apparent retreat, leading Lorenzo’s forces into what appears to be an advantage. The enemy pours into the grand ballroom, confident they’ve cornered their prey.

“Now,” Sofia whispers, triggering something I didn’t know existed.

Hidden panels slide open in the ballroom walls. Automated defense systems—not lethal, but incapacitating—flood the room with tear gas while sonic disruptors disorient the attackers. In seconds, twenty of Lorenzo’s men are neutralized without a single casualty on our side.

“Holy shit ,” one of Marco’s lieutenants breathes through comms. “Where did those come from?”

Sofia stares at the monitors in amazement, her fingers paused over the keyboard. “Marco, what the hell was that?”

“Emergency Protocol Seventeen,” Marco responds, wincing as he operates the controls with his good arm. “Dad had them installed after the Torrino incident. Non-lethal but highly effective.” He glances at Sofia’s shocked expression. “There’s a lot about this place you don’t know yet.”

“Apparently,” Sofia mutters, quickly adapting her strategy to account for defensive capabilities she didn’t know existed. “What other surprises does this place have?”

“We’ll discuss the full capabilities later,” Marco replies. “Right now, let’s focus on staying alive, yeah?”

Static suddenly cuts through our secure feed. A familiar voice fills the command center, transmitted through speakers I didn’t even know existed.

“Impressive, little girl.” Lorenzo’s smooth tone makes my trigger finger itch. “You always were too clever for your own good.”

Sofia’s face hardens as she traces the signal source, her movements sharp and efficient. “He’s using the building’s emergency broadcast system. It’s hardwired, not networked. That’s how he’s reaching us.”

“Funny,” she replies coldly into her headset, not missing a beat in her coordination. “I was just thinking how sloppy you’ve become in your old age.”

I move closer to her automatically, but she waves me off without looking up. She has this completely under control.

“Sloppy?” Lorenzo laughs through the speakers. “I have your family running like rats. Your parents in hiding. Your precious home under siege. And now?—”

“And now I’m tearing apart your entire network.” Her smile turns triumphant as she pulls up screen after screen of compromised data. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize your coding signatures? Wouldn’t see your digital fingerprints all over the Council’s security?”

On our monitors, I watch more of Lorenzo’s men trying to breach the sealed sections of the building. Sofia’s already three steps ahead, redirecting them into kill zones where Marco’s teams wait in ambush.

“Team four, hold your position,” she commands, watching enemy movement with the patience of a chess master. “Let them commit to the eastern approach, then hit them from behind.”

The coordinated assault that follows is poetry in motion. Sofia doesn’t just coordinate—she orchestrates, timing each move that turns our defensive position into an offensive masterpiece.

A pause from Lorenzo, then, “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” She types furiously while simultaneously coordinating three separate engagements. “Should we test that? Maybe start with your private accounts? The ones you used to pay Viktor’s men? Or perhaps the recorded conversations with the Council members you’ve been bribing?”

“Movement on level two!” Marco calls out, tracking new contacts on our screens. “They’re trying to flank through the wine cellar.”

“I see them.” Sofia’s response is immediate. “Teams eight and nine, intercept at checkpoint delta. Use the narrow corridors to your advantage—they can’t bring their numbers to bear in confined spaces.”

I watch in fascination and pride as she turns every disadvantage into an advantage, every weakness into a strength.

The wine cellar’s narrow passages become chokepoints.

The building’s multiple levels become layered defenses.

Even our reduced numbers become an asset as her strategy forces the enemy to spread thin.

“Sofia,” Marco warns as more gunfire erupts in the levels above us, his good hand gripping his weapon while blood seeps through his makeshift bandage. “We need to move soon. I can’t coordinate the perimeter defense much longer with this shoulder.”

“Not yet.” She’s fully focused on multiple screens, sweat sliding down her forehead from the concentration required to manage this many moving pieces simultaneously. “Almost got it…there.”

Security feeds flash across our monitors—but not our feeds. Lorenzo’s private cameras from locations throughout the city. His safe houses. His meetings with Viktor and the corrupt Council members. Years of carefully hidden evidence now displayed for us to see.

“That’s not possible,” Lorenzo snarls through the speakers. “You couldn’t have broken through those systems?—”

“What, your encryption?” she scoffs, even as she directs another maneuver that traps six more of his men in a service corridor. “Your personal networks were so easy to crack. It was almost insulting to my intelligence.”

I catch movement on one of our restored security feeds—the west corridor. A full squad moving in tandem, heavier weapons than the others.

“Incoming!” I call out. “These are not street muscle.”

We dive for cover as armor-piercing rounds tear through the reinforced walls of the command center.

Marco’s men return fire, but I can see the strain on Marco’s face as his wounded shoulder limits his mobility. Blood loss is making him pale, but he refuses to back down.

And Sofia… Sofia moves like she was born for warfare.

Every shot finds its mark as she provides covering fire for her own coordination.

Every movement flows seamlessly with our defensive strategy.

She’s fighting, leading, commanding with the natural authority of someone who belongs on a battlefield.

“Team two, fall back to secondary positions!” she orders while putting three rounds into an attacker trying to breach our left flank. “They’re using military-grade equipment—standard cover won’t hold!”

She tosses a flashbang grenade with perfect timing, blinding the assault team just as Marco’s men execute a coordinated counterattack. Her aim is beautiful and deadly.

“Fuck me,” Marco breathes, watching his sister drop two attackers while simultaneously maintaining her digital assault on Lorenzo’s networks. “When did she become…”

He stops mid-sentence as Sofia performs a reload that would make a Navy SEAL proud, never breaking rhythm in her defensive coordination. Her movements are fluid, confident, completely natural—like this is exactly what she was meant to do.

“She was always this,” I say quietly, covering her position as she works. “You just couldn’t see it through your need to protect her.”

More of Lorenzo’s men pour in through the upper levels, but Sofia’s already adapting her strategy to account for the increased pressure. I watch her face as she processes multiple situations simultaneously—no panic, no hesitation, just cold calculation and flawless execution.

“Teams three and six, converge on level four,” she commands while hacking through another layer of Lorenzo’s security. “Use the construction scaffolding for elevated positions. Make them pay for every inch.”