Page 9 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

I find my brother in his office, staring at an array of paperwork spread across his desk like a battlefield map. He looks up when I enter, dark circles under his eyes betraying the weight he carries as Don.

"Any news yet?" I ask, cutting straight to the point.

Damiano shakes his head, leaning back in his leather chair. "Nothing concrete. Sterling's gone quiet, but his people are moving. We know he's looking for her."

"And Cortez?"

"Back in Mexico for now." He runs a hand through his hair. "But that's not why I called you in."

Something in his tone sets my jaw on edge. "What is it?"

"I've been thinking about this situation." His eyes meet mine, that familiar steel I've known since we were boys. "Having Sienna here... it puts our family at risk. Especially Lucrezia."

My blood heats instantly. "So what? We throw her to the wolves?"

"I didn't say that." His voice remains calm, measured – the voice of the Don, not my brother. "But I have to consider our family first. Always."

"You've seen what they did to her. You know what Sterling and Cortez are capable of."

"Which is exactly my point." Damiano stands, matching my intensity with his own controlled power. "I won't risk something happening to our family while we're protecting Sterling's daughter. Especially not after what happened to Lucrezia."

Rage and guilt tangle in my chest, and for a moment I want to put my fist through the nearest wall.

But he's right.

Fuck.

I take a breath, forcing the raging thoughts to organize themselves. "The country house," I say finally, the idea forming as I speak it. "Remote enough to stay hidden, defensible perimeter, away from the family but still on our territory."

Damiano studies me, weighing the suggestion. "You'd need to be there with her."

"I know."

"You'd be isolated, vulnerable if they find you."

I meet his gaze. "Let them try."

My brother's expression softens slightly. "You hardly know this girl, Enzo."

"I know enough." The image of her wounded body lying in the gardens flashes through my mind, followed by the resignation in her eyes when she spoke of being someone's property. "Nobody deserves what they did to her. What they planned to do."

Damiano nods slowly. "The country house could work. I'll arrange extra security measures, rotating patrols. How will you convince her to go with you?"

That's the question, isn't it? The girl barely trusts anyone, least of all me.

"I'll figure it out," I say.

I nod firmly at my brother. "I'm doing it tonight. Before Sterling gets any closer to finding her."

"Are you sure about this?" Damiano asks, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sure." I turn and leave.

The walk to Sienna's room feels longer than usual. Each step echoes my thoughts—is this protection or something else? Something I can't afford to examine too closely.

I knock twice before entering. She's sitting by the window, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the garden below. She startles when I step inside, her body tensing like a cornered animal.

"We need to move," I say without preamble.

Her eyes widen. "Move where?"

"To a different house. One that's safer for you." I keep my distance, knowing my presence makes her uneasy. "It's remote, harder to find."

"Why?" Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Did he—did my father?—"

"Not yet. But he's looking, and this place is too obvious."

She studies me, those ice-blue eyes calculating risk. "Will your family be there?"

"Just me," I answer truthfully. "That's the point. To keep them safe while making sure you're protected. "

A flicker of something—fear, distrust—crosses her face. "Just you and me?"

"Yes." I step closer, careful not to crowd her. "Pack whatever you need. We leave at midnight."

I don't wait for her response. She doesn't have a choice, and pretending she does would be crueler than honesty.

I head back in my room and throw essentials into a bag. Weapons, clothes, cash. The routine is familiar, but my mind wanders to unfamiliar territory.

A memory surfaces without permission—Caterina's laugh, the way sunlight caught her hair that summer in Milan. Before everything went to shit. Before I learned that love was just another word for vulnerability.

I slam my drawer shut, trying to force the memory away.

Since then, women have been simple. One night. Maybe two. Nothing that could dig beneath my skin or expose something I couldn't afford to show.

So why does Sienna's broken smile haunt me? Why does her quiet defiance linger in my thoughts?

I zip my bag with unnecessary force. This is about protection, about fixing what I failed to prevent with Lucrezia. Nothing more.

Then it hits me.

That look in her eyes before I walked out of her room—I've seen it before. Not the fear or resignation I've grown accustomed to seeing there. Something different. Something calculating.

I pause, hand still on my bag, and replay the moment in my mind. The way her posture shifted slightly. How her eyes darted toward the door, just for a second. The almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw .

Sienna Sterling isn't planning to come with me at all. She's planning to run.

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth despite myself. Clever girl. Now I understand—she's been biding her time, pretending to cooperate while looking for an opening.

The midnight departure I've ordered gives her exactly what she needs: chaos, movement, a change in routine. She thinks I've handed her the perfect opportunity to slip away.

Part of me admires her for it. The rest of me knows better than to underestimate what desperation can drive someone to do.

What would I do in her position? Wait until we're in transit, maybe. Create a distraction. Or perhaps she thinks she can disappear into the night before we even leave.

I wonder how far she'll get before I catch her. How she'll react when I do.

My smile widens. The girl has spirit, I'll give her that. It's been a while since anyone surprised me.

I sit on the edge of my bed, considering my options. I could confront her now, shut down her plans before they begin. The smart move, probably.

But I find myself curious. I want to see what she'll do, how she'll make her move. Testing her resolve feels important somehow, like I need to know exactly what she's capable of.

Fine. Let her try. Let her show me who she really is when pushed to the edge.

I'll be ready either way.

I stare at the small silver watch on the bedside table. Eleven forty-five. Almost midnight.

My fingers twist the fabric of the soft t-shirt Lucrezia lent me earlier. Enzo's words echo in my head: "We're leaving at midnight. Pack what you need."

I can't trust him. I can't trust any of them. The Ferettis may seem different from my father, with their family breakfasts and casual banter, but they're still dangerous men. Men who deal in power and violence. Men who can't possibly risk everything to protect me when Henry comes looking.

And Henry will come looking.

I slip into the bathroom and change quickly, wincing as the movement pulls at my healing bruises. I choose the darkest clothes I can find - black leggings, a navy hoodie. Better for blending into shadows.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I step back into the bedroom. The digital clock now reads eleven fifty. Ten minutes until Enzo comes for me.

Through the large windows, I can see moonlight illuminating the grounds below. Three stories down. Too far to jump.

I need to get to the ground floor first.

Lucrezia's tour earlier replays in my mind. The western staircase is rarely used by the family. The kitchen door leads to the gardens .

I press my ear against the door, listening for footsteps. Silence.

I slip out into the hallway, careful to walk on my toes to minimize sound. The thick carpet helps muffle my steps as I make my way toward the stairs Lu showed me.

My hand trembles as I grip the banister. Every creak of the old wood sounds like gunfire in the quiet house. I freeze at a distant voice, then continue when it fades.

Second floor. First floor. I press myself against the wall when I hear someone in the distance.

The kitchen is dark when I reach it, moonlight streaming through windows. The door to the gardens is right there - my exit to freedom.

I hesitate, hand on the doorknob. They have guards. Security systems. Dogs, maybe.

But this is my only chance.

If Henry finds me, I'm dead.

I take a deep breath and turn the doorknob. The cool night air hits my face as I ease the door open. Freedom is just steps away—a garden path leading to shadows, to anonymity, to anywhere but back to my father's clutches.

I slip outside, leaving the door barely cracked behind me. The grass is damp beneath my feet as I scan the yard for any sign of movement. Nothing. Just moonlight casting long shadows across the manicured lawn.

My pulse pounds in my ears as I gather my courage. One deep breath. Then I sprint toward the tree line at the edge of the property.

One second I'm running, the next I'm suspended in the air. Strong arms seize me from behind, locking around my waist like iron bands. My feet kick uselessly as I'm lifted off the ground.

"Going somewhere, piccola? "

Enzo's voice is low in my ear, almost amused. I struggle against his grip, but it's like fighting against steel. He doesn't even seem to notice my efforts.

Without another word, he adjusts his hold, sweeping me up against his chest. One arm supports my back while the other cradles my legs. The sudden shift makes my bruises scream in protest, but I clench my teeth against the pain.

"Put me down," I hiss, pushing against his chest.

He ignores me completely, carrying me across the lawn toward a black SUV idling in the circular driveway. The windows are tinted so dark they look like portals to nowhere.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that," Enzo says, his voice rumbling against my side where I'm pressed against him. "Lucrezia showed you around for what—an hour? And you already mapped an escape route."

I say nothing, focusing instead on how I might break free when he puts me down.

"You're lucky I'm the one who found you," he continues. "My men? They're trained to shoot first when they spot runners."

A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the night air. Would they really have shot me? Or is this just another fear tactic?

I remain silent as we reach the SUV. Alessio stands beside the open rear door, his expression unreadable in the darkness.