Page 101 of Blood Debt

I cross the room slowly, like my own body is stalling for time my mind doesn’t want to give.

The drawer handle is cool beneath my fingers. I pull it open.

The gun lies there, black steel catching the dim light like it’s alive.

I wrap my hand around it, feel the perfect fit against my palm, the promise of power in its weight. For a long second, I just stare at it—my reflection warped in the barrel, my pulse thrumming like a drumbeat in my ears.

It would be so simple. One shot, and this would all be over.

But not yet.

I set it back inside, the click of the drawer sliding shut louder than it should be in the silence.

My feet start moving before I think about it—pacing tight lines across the room, the floor creaking faintly under my steps. My mind keeps circling back to her face, her voice. The lies. The truth I’m holding in my chest like a blade pointed both ways.

I should go to her room right now. Tell her I know. Everything—her real name, why she’s here, about our daughter. Rip the mask from her face before she makes her move.

The buzz of my phone on the desk slices through the quiet. It vibrates once. Twice. Face down, humming like it’s warning me.

I already feel it in my gut—this isn’t good.

I flip it over. Matteo.

“What.” My voice is flat.

“I’m watching the surveillance,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that makes my jaw lock. “She’s walking to the study.”

I stop breathing for a beat.

Not sneaking. Not hesitating. Just walking.

Straight toward the heart of me, ready to put the knife in without blinking.

My chest tightens—rage and something else I don’t want to name.

Chapter 26 – Serafina

Bellarosa Estate

My hair is pulled into a severe bun that tugs at my scalp, keeping every strand out of my way. The watch Marcello gave me rests against my wrist like a shackle and a weapon all at once. I’ve already sent Tony the coded backup message. There’s no point dodging the cameras now; I want them to see me.

The hall feels unnervingly quiet as I make my way toward the study, my footsteps swallowed by the thick rugs. I cross the study, fingers brushing the panel on the far wall until it clicks and slides open, revealing the narrow stairway to the vault.

The descent feels colder, the light changing from warm gold to harsh, sterile white. The room at the bottom is stark and humming with electricity, the air thrumming like it’s alive. The safe waits in the center, its steel surface gleaming. I’m six feet away when it happens.

A searing line of heat lashes across my thigh, sharp enough to make my knees buckle. My breath hitches. My gaze darts down—and then I see them. Thin beams of crimson light, invisible until I’ve breached their field, stretching across the floor and walls in an intricate, deadly lattice. A laser guard. Military-grade. The sting on my leg tells me exactly what they’re capable of—high-frequency thermal beams hot enough to cut through fabric and flesh if I’m careless.

I drop to my stomach, the cold steel biting into my palms. My breathing slows as I track the patterns, the beams pulsing faintly. My mind maps the gaps, the precise angles I’ll need to move through without brushing even a hair against the red lines.My elbow brushes too close to one, and heat singes my skin—a warning that feels like a brand.

Inch by inch, I crawl forward, every muscle taut. The safe looms closer, and my chest tightens. My hand hovers over the biometric pad, hesitation clawing at me. One touch and I can’t turn back. But Bianca’s face flashes in my mind. Then Isla’s—smiling, before I imagine her in that cage upstairs. My stomach knots, rage shoving me forward.

I press my thumb to the pad. A faint prick as it draws blood. A soft chime. The door slides open with clinical precision, revealing the black, high-tech box nestled inside. My pulse roars in my ears.

The moment I lift it free, the alarms erupt—shrill, unrelenting. The beams flare brighter, the hum of the vault intensifying into an almost deafening vibration.

Clutching the box to my chest, I lower myself back to the floor, sliding under the first line of light, twisting through the second, my knees scraping raw against the metal. My chest is tight, my breaths sharp as I inch toward the exit.

The opening is closing. I push harder, ignoring the sting of a beam that grazes my ankle. My legs burn as I scramble upright and sprint.