Page 116 of Blood Debt

At last.

Bianca’s wide hazel-green eyes meet mine—so much of Serafina in their color, so much of me in their shape. For amoment, the world falls away. I stroke her hair gently, brushing back the dark waves from her face, and force my voice soft.

“Don’t be scared, tesoro,” I whisper, my thumb tracing her trembling cheek.

Her lip wobbles. “Will you help Mama? And Aunt Isla?”

The words slam into me. Aunt Isla? My gut twists. Could it be Serafina’s best friend—the one she thought I murdered?

I force a nod. “Yes. I’ll help them both. I swear it.”

Bianca blinks back tears and tugs at my collar. “Then let me take you. I know the way.”

I cup her face. “Do you remember where you came from?”

She nods quickly. “Yes.”

I scoop her into my arms, holding her close to my chest. She clings to me like she’s afraid I’ll vanish. Ahead, Matteo raises his gun, his broad shoulders a shield.

“Stay behind me,” he mutters, voice low and clipped.

We move fast down the corridor.

The enemy comes before long—three men burst from a side passage, weapons raised.

“Close your eyes. Cover your ears!” I tell Bianca sharply.

She buries her face in my neck, pressing her small hands tight over her ears. I draw my gun one-handed, firing in smooth bursts. The first man jerks and crumples. Matteo handles the second, two shots center mass. The third lunges, knife flashing. I twist, shifting Bianca out of reach, and drive my blade into his throat. Hot blood sprays across my arm as he gurgles and falls.

Bianca whimpers, her tiny fingers digging into me, but I murmur against her hair, “Good job, tesoro. Keep your eyes closed. You’re safe.”

She whispers shakily, “That way.”

She points with one trembling hand toward a narrow corridor. We move, faster now, Matteo in front cutting down the last stragglers—gunfire echoes, the sharp grunt of pain, then silence again.

At last, we reach a heavy metal door, its bars twisted where someone tried to force them. The cage beyond it gapes open. Empty.

Bianca stiffens in my arms. Her breath hitches. “They were here,” she sobs. “Mama and Aunt Isla—they were just here!”

Her tears burn against my neck. My chest feels like it’s splintering apart, but I rock her gently, whispering lies that I need to believe myself.

“We’ll find them, Bianca. I promise you. We’ll find Mama and Aunt Isla.”

She clings tighter, trembling. And I know—I will burn this place to the ground before I let them vanish again.

The corridors stretch long and empty, every echo of our footsteps taut with dread. Bianca’s small arms loop tight around my neck, her little body trembling against mine. I can feel her heartbeat racing against my chest. Matteo strides ahead, gun drawn, eyes sharp as a hawk sweeping the shadows.

We turn a corner—and nearly collide with Alessandra.

She slumps against the wall, her once-perfect bob matted with sweat and blood. A guttural groan leaves her lips as Matteo seizes her by the arm, yanking her upright.

“Where is she?” Matteo snarls, shaking her once. “Where is Serafina?”

Alessandra’s head lolls to the side, her painted lips curving into a bitter smile. “Rot in hell,” she croaks, coughing blood into her hand.

I study her wound—a deep, festering gash down her side, too much blood lost. She won’t last. She’s already a dying thing. My jaw hardens.

“Leave her,” I tell Matteo flatly, my voice cold steel. “She’s useless.”