Page 46 of The Underboss’s Secret Twins (Underworld Heirs #2)

SOFIA

W e’re still waiting on updates when one of the men turns to Valentina and me, his face white.

The room is suspended in worry, the glow of the computer screens flickering over sharp angles and tense faces. The low hum of radio chatter crackles in and out, broken by bursts of static, the undercurrent of something inevitable pressing into the space between us.

Then there’s a sharp ping.

A new transmission flashes across the screen, an encrypted message filtering in from an unexpected source.

One of the men nearest to the console frowns, leaning forward.

"We just got a priority alert from a contact inside the department," he mutters, already decoding it.

His fingers fly across the keys, the message unraveling in pieces, line by line.

I’m at his side in an instant, eyes locking onto the data as it loads. A report. Shipment records. Dates. Locations. And then?—

I feel the blood drain from my face.

"When?" My voice is taut, barely above a whisper.

The man swallows, scanning the details. "Two days ago. A classified shipment passed through customs, rerouted under a falsified manifest. Destination—" He hesitates, his face tightening. "Lombardi villa."

A strange ringing fills my ears. My pulse slams against my ribs as I scroll through the attached images, each one making my stomach sink further.

Large crates. Weight tallies far exceeding what would be standard for weapons.

A second shipment that never left the docks, flagged by port authorities—but no action had been taken.

"Jesus," Valentina breathes beside me, tension bleeding into her tone. "What the hell are we looking at?"

I force myself to speak, my throat tight. "Not weapons." I drag a shaking finger along the screen, highlighting the cargo details. "Explosives. Military-grade."

Silence.

A long, slow exhale from someone behind me.

"They’re not just holding the villa," I murmur, the weight of it pressing down hard now, suffocating. "They’re planning to bury it."

It’s a trap.

One that had already been set, waiting for Marco to walk straight into it.

I’m moving before the thought fully forms, shoving back from the desk, grabbing for my phone. My breath is uneven, my fingers cold as they punch in his number.

It rings once.

Twice.

Then nothing.

The call drops.

I dial again, my chest tightening, panic clawing its way up my throat.

Still nothing.

Valentina is already flipping through the radio channels, urgency sharpening her voice. "Command, this is Salvatore Base. Do you copy?"

Only static answers.

I clutch my phone so hard my knuckles ache.

We’re too late. They’re already inside.

I shoot up from my chair so fast the screen flickers in my vision. "They’re going to blow up the villa."

Valentina’s face pales. "What?"

"The Lombardis ordered a massive shipment of explosives right before Marco’s attack. They’re setting a trap—when Marco and his men are deep enough inside, they’re going to detonate the whole damn place."

Her lips part, horror flashing across her features before she reaches for the radio. "We need to warn them. Now. "

I grab my phone, my fingers trembling as I dial Marco’s number.

It rings.

And rings.

No answer.

I try again. Nothing.

My stomach plummets.

I whip toward Valentina as she tries the radio, her voice urgent. "Command, this is Salvatore Base, do you copy?" Static. She tries again. "This is Valentina Salvatore, we need immediate confirmation on the status of the assault. Do you copy?"

More static.

My breath shudders. The comms are a mess—between the firefight and the sheer size of the estate, they probably aren’t even receiving half the messages being sent.

I can’t just sit here.

"I have to go," I say, grabbing my coat.

Valentina snaps her head toward me. "Are you insane? You can’t just walk into a war zone, Sofia!"

I shake my head, pacing, my mind spinning. "He’s not answering. The comms are barely working. We don’t have time to wait and hope he gets the message. He needs to know now —if they detonate that place with him inside—" I cut myself off, my throat tightening.

Valentina pushes out of her chair, stepping into my path, her expression fierce. "You cannot go in there."

"I have to."

"No, you don’t." Her voice rises, sharp, but beneath the frustration, there’s something raw in her eyes.

Fear. "You think I don’t know what this feels like?

I do, Sofia. I know exactly what it’s like to sit here, powerless, while the man you love throws himself into battle.

It kills me every time Luca walks out that door, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we can’t always save them. "

Her words hit me like a slap.

I shake my head. "That’s not what this is."

"Isn’t it?" She exhales, voice thick with emotion. "Marco’s men are trained for this. He’s trained for this. You—you’re carrying his child. You think he’d want you anywhere near that place?"

My chest tightens at the mention of the baby.

She’s right. He wouldn’t want me there.

But that doesn’t change the fact that if he doesn’t get this message in time, he’ll die.

And I can’t—I won’t—let that happen.

I grip Valentina’s hands, my voice softer now. "I know you’re scared for me. I know this is reckless. But if I don’t go, Marco might not make it out. And then what? What kind of life do I have without him? What kind of life does our child have?"

She stares at me. Then, after a long, painful beat—she closes her eyes.

A muscle jumps in her jaw before she exhales, shaking her head. "You’re impossible."

I manage a weak smile. "So I’ve been told."

Valentina presses her fingers to her temples, muttering something under her breath before sighing. "Fine. But you’re not going alone."

My breath catches.

She crosses her arms. "I’ll drive."

Relief surges through me, but there’s no time to process it. I nod, grabbing my phone and checking the tracking feed one last time. Marco’s last known position was deep inside the villa.

We don’t have long.

As we rush toward the garage, Valentina turns to one of Marco’s guards. "You. Get me a vest for her. Now. "

The man hesitates, glancing between us.

Valentina levels him with a glare. " Now. "

He moves.

The moment he returns with a vest, I strap it on, barely feeling the weight of it over the adrenaline coursing through me.

Valentina takes a minute to check on Leo. Once she’s done, she meets me outside the car.

She slides into the driver’s seat of one of the armored SUVs, gripping the wheel with the same determination I feel burning in my own chest.

As we speed toward the villa, my thoughts spiral.

I know what I’m walking into. I know the risk.

But the fear that’s been clawing at my insides all day is nothing compared to the thought of Marco dying in that explosion.

I won’t let it happen.

I can’t.

Even if it means running straight into the fire.

I grip the edges of my seat as Valentina speeds through the narrow streets of Nuova Speranza, weaving between cars with a reckless determination that matches the storm inside my chest. The city rushes past in a blur of neon lights and darkened alleyways, the distant sounds of sirens wailing in the background.

The streets are slick from an earlier rain, the glistening pavement reflecting the headlights as we tear toward the villa.

I don’t know if Marco has received my message. I don’t know if he’s realized the trap he’s walked into. But I do know that if I don’t reach him in time, I might never see him again.

My heart slams against my ribs as I clutch my phone in my lap, watching the tracking feed update Marco’s last known position inside the villa.

Almost there.

And then?—

The glare of headlights flares in the rearview mirror.

Valentina swears under her breath.

I twist in my seat, my stomach plunging as a sleek black SUV barrels toward us, closing the distance too fast.

"Lombardis," Valentina grits out.

Panic tightens its grip around my throat.

"They're after me ," I realize.

"They know exactly who you are," she snaps. "And they sure as hell aren’t here to offer you a ride."

The SUV jerks forward, a predatory movement, headlights flashing in an eerie pulse. They’re herding us, trying to box us in.

Valentina slams the gas pedal to the floor.

The engine roars as we lurch forward, tires screeching against the wet pavement. We weave between traffic, the Lombardi car tailing us relentlessly. A second vehicle appears at the end of the block, swerving to cut us off.

"We need to lose them!" I say, pulse hammering.

"I'm trying , " Valentina growls, yanking the wheel hard to the left.

The SUV fishtails, barely missing a parked car before rocketing down a side street. But the Lombardis keep coming.

I scan the roads ahead, my mind racing. I know these streets. I grew up in this city.

"Take the next right!" I shout.

Valentina doesn’t hesitate. She whips the car around the corner, sending us flying onto a narrow backstreet lined with abandoned warehouses.

"Now left!"

She obeys, the tires skidding as she veers onto an even tighter road. The Lombardis hesitate at the intersection, losing precious seconds as they try to guess our route.

"One more turn," I say, gripping the dashboard. "Then kill the lights."

Valentina accelerates, swerving down a narrow alleyway barely wide enough for our SUV. Then—darkness.

The second the headlights cut out, the car becomes a shadow. A whisper against the night.

We coast silently behind a row of dumpsters, engine low, holding our breath.

Seconds stretch like an eternity.

Then—the Lombardi SUVs roar past the alley, engines snarling as they charge ahead, blind to our hiding spot.

Valentina exhales sharply. "Jesus."

I don’t let myself relax. "We need to move. They’ll double back."

Valentina throws the car into gear. "Hold on."

We take off, cutting through the side streets, heading straight for the villa.

I can see the smoke before we even reach the gates.

The distant pop-pop-pop of gunfire shatters the night.

The battle has already begun.

I shove the door open the second we skid to a stop, my boots hitting the gravel with a sharp crunch. Valentina grabs my wrist, her grip firm.

"Sofia," she warns. "Think about what you're doing."

"I have to go."

I see the conflict in her eyes, the fight between fear and understanding. Then, she nods once.

"Go."

I sprint toward the side entrance, my breath coming in sharp gasps.

Marco is inside.

The Lombardis are inside.

And the whole damn place is rigged to explode.

The side door is ajar, splintered at the edges, as if someone forced their way in. The air is thick with smoke, the acrid scent of gunpowder and something burning clinging to the walls.

Gunfire rattles through the corridors.

I move cautiously, pressing against the cold stone as I navigate the darkened halls. The villa is a maze, grand and sprawling, but I memorized the layout from Marco’s briefings. I know where he’d go—where the fight would be thickest.

But I also know I’m not the only one hunting in this house.

A voice echoes somewhere ahead—low, cruel.

I freeze.

The hallway ahead flickers with the dim glow of firelight, shadows stretching along the marble floor.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Someone is searching.

Not just for Marco.

For me.

The weight of realization crashes into me.

Vittorio Lombardi is inside.

He must have been informed that I was heading for the villa, and now, he’s looking for me.

I press a hand to my stomach, my breath shallow.

I have to find Marco.

Before Vittorio finds me.