Page 33 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

T he alarms blare through every corner of the mansion, a shrill warning that our perimeter's been breached.

I position myself at the front of our defensive line, Damiano to my right, Alessio to my left.

Our men spread out in practiced formation.

We've drilled for this scenario countless times, though never expected Sterling would be bold enough to attack our family home.

My finger hovers near the trigger of my gun, blood roaring in my ears. Every nerve ending stands at attention, my body primed for violence

A deafening explosion rips through the air, and the front entrance door shatters inward. Splinters and dust cloud the air, but no one rushes in. The silence that follows is more threatening than gunfire—they're waiting for us to make the first move, to expose our positions.

"Don't fire until I give the order," Damiano murmurs, his voice barely audible.

I adjust my grip, muscles coiled tight like springs. The adrenaline surging through me demands release, but years of discipline keep me in check. We hold our positions, the only sound our controlled breathing and the distant wail of alarms.

Then a voice cuts through the tense silence.

"The Feretti brothers, I presume." The voice is calm, almost conversational. "Mr. Sterling sends his regards."

I scan the entrance through the dissipating dust, catching sight of a figure standing just beyond the shattered doorway, hands raised non-threateningly despite the chaos they've just caused.

"Mr. Sterling would like to end this without unnecessary bloodshed," the man continues. "We're not here for a war."

"You have a fucking strange way of showing it," Alessio growls beside me.

The man chuckles, a hollow sound devoid of humor. "Consider it... knocking loudly. We needed your attention."

"You've got it," Damiano replies, voice deadly calm. "Now state your business and get the fuck off my property."

"It's quite simple." The man takes one small step forward, hands still raised. "Return the girl to her father, and we leave without harming anyone. No blood shed, no further damage to your... lovely home."

My jaw clenches so hard my teeth might crack. The fucking audacity to come here, to our territory, our home, and demand we hand over Sienna like she's a piece of property.

"Is that what Henry told you to say?" I call out, unable to keep the lethal edge from my voice. "That we should just hand her over, and everyone walks away?"

"Those are his exact terms," the man confirms. "Simple exchange. The girl for your safety."

"Get the fuck out of our house," I snarl, the gun steady in my hands despite the rage coursing through me. "Tell Sterling if he wants to talk terms, he comes himself. Like a man."

The messenger's expression hardens. "Mr. Sterling suspected you might be difficult about this. He wanted me to remind you that while your family is formidable, even you can't fight a war on multiple fronts."

"Is that a threat?" Damiano's voice drops to that dangerous whisper that usually precedes violence.

"It's a reality," the man replies. "The girl has become an unnecessary complication in your lives. Return her, and this ends tonight."

"You're all fucking dead," I start to say when a voice cuts through the tension like a blade.

"Stop!" Sienna's voice rings out from behind me. "Stop this right now!"

I whirl around to see Sienna standing in the hall, her face pale but determined. Zoe's gripping her arm, trying to pull her back toward the safe room, but Sienna yanks free.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hiss, moving to intercept her. "Get back?—"

"They want me," she says, her voice steadier than I've ever heard it. "They'll take me and leave without harming anyone else. That's what you want, isn't it?" She directs this last part to the man at our shattered doorway.

"That's exactly what we want, Miss Sterling," the man agrees, a smile spreading across his face .

"No!" I shout, moving toward her. "Not a fucking chance?—"

"Enzo, please," Sienna's eyes lock with mine, filled with resignation and something else I can't name. "I won't let people die for me."

"Listen to the girl," the messenger says. "She understands the situation."

I step between Sienna and the door, my back to her, gun still trained on the intruder. "You don't touch her. You don't fucking look at her. This isn't happening."

"Sienna, go with Zoe," Damiano orders from his position, not taking his eyes off the threat.

I feel Sienna's hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

Something in her voice makes me turn, just enough to see her step around me, moving toward the messenger. It happens in slow motion—her chin up, shoulders back, walking toward certain death with more courage than I knew anyone possessed.

"No!" I lunge forward, reaching for her.

The messenger moves with unexpected speed. He grabs Sienna's arm, yanking her against his chest as his other hand produces a pistol that he presses to her temple.

I freeze, my blood turning to ice.

"That's better," the man says, backing up a step. "You know how this works, Feretti. One wrong move and she goes down with me."

The gun barrel digs into Sienna's temple, hard enough that she winces. Her eyes find mine.

"Let her go," I say, my voice dropping to something barely human. "You have no idea what I'll do to you."

"I have some idea," the man responds coolly. "But by then, she'll have a bullet in her brain. Is that what you want?"

Sienna swallows, her eyes never leaving mine. "It's okay, Enzo," she says softly. "This was always how it was going to end."

"Shut up," the man snaps at her, pressing the gun harder against her head.

Every muscle in my body trembles with the effort of restraint. I've never felt this kind of rage before. White-hot and all-consuming. My vision narrows until all I can see is the gun at Sienna's head and the face of the man I'm going to dismember piece by fucking piece.

"Enzo," Damiano's voice comes from somewhere beside me. "Stand down."

I don't move. Can't move. My finger twitches on the trigger.

"I'm so sorry for all this mess," she continues, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. "For bringing this to your home, to your family."

She turns her gaze to my brother. "Damiano, I'm sorry. You welcomed me, and this is how I repay you."

Damiano's jaw tightens, but his eyes never leave the messenger holding Sienna.

I calculate angles, scenarios, probabilities—like I've done countless times in lethal situations. But none of those times had Sienna's life hanging by the twitch of a finger. If I move, she dies. If Damiano or Alessio fire, she dies.

We're outmaneuvered, and the knowledge burns like acid in my veins.

"Look at me," I command the messenger, my voice dropping to something barely recognizable. "Look at my fucking face and remember it. Because it's the last thing you'll see on this earth when I find you. Tell Henry, now that he has Sienna, I expect no more surprises from now on."

I deliberately use Sterling's first name, a calculated disrespect. I need this messenger to carry more than just Sienna back to Sterling.

"The next surprise," I continue, "will be mine to deliver."

Sienna's face is streaked with tears, but her composure doesn't crack. Even now, with death pressed against her temple, she holds herself with dignity that makes my chest ache.

The messenger starts backing toward the door, dragging Sienna with him. "Wise choice, Feretti. Tell your men to stand down as we leave. Any pursuit, any shots, and she's dead."

"You heard him," Damiano orders without looking away. "Let them pass."

I feel frozen in place, every instinct screaming to lunge forward, to fight, to kill. But my brain overrides the impulse. Not now. Not like this. I won't gamble with Sienna's life.

"Enzo," Sienna calls softly as she's pulled farther away. "Thank you. For everything."

The finality in her voice makes my blood run cold. She thinks she's saying goodbye forever. That I'll let her go. That this is the end.

She doesn't know me at all.

I lock my face into an expressionless mask, standing steel while everything inside me rages. I let her see nothing of the storm. Nothing of my plans. Nothing of what's coming for everyone who touches her.

This is the hardest thing I've ever done—watching them take her. Letting them believe they've won.

The messenger and his men back out through our shattered entrance, guns trained on us, Sienna held firmly between them. The last glimpse I get is of her face. Pale, tear-stained, before they disappear into the night.

The moment they disappear from sight, I spin around, my control fracturing into lethal focus.

"Someone tell me how the fuck this happened!" Damiano roars, his voice bouncing off the damaged walls of our home. He grabs the nearest guard by his tactical vest. "Our security is the best money can buy. How did they breach it?"

The guard pales. "Sir, we don't?—"

"Not good enough," Damiano shoves him away. "I want answers now. Where's Daniel? Get Hayes in here!"

I pace like a caged animal, my mind racing through scenarios, calculating how quickly we can mobilize.

"The perimeter alarms didn't trigger until they were already inside," Alessio reports, holstering his weapon. "Something's off with the timing."

Heavy footsteps echo down the hall as Daniel Hayes appears, his face grim and splattered with blood not his own. "The exterior security teams are down. All of them."

"What do you mean 'down'?" Damiano snaps.

"Dead," Daniel says bluntly. "Professional hits. Silent. They knew exactly where our men were positioned."

"Fuck!" I slam my fist into the nearest wall, the pain barely registering through my rage.

"How long before the alarms?" I demand. "How much time passed between our men going down and the system alerting us?"

Daniel's jaw tightens. "Based on body temp, at least fifteen minutes. Maybe more."