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Letting out a sigh, I mutter, “We’re going to the club. Emilio will meet us there.”
The news of the attack was unexpected. Sure, an enemy can crawl out of a fucking hole at any time, but usually, things are quiet over the festive season.
We take the elevator down to the basement and head to the SUV, and soon, Carlo steers the vehicle in the direction of the club.
A couple of blocks from our destination my phone starts ringing while it buzzes with message after message.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I growl as I yank the device out of my pocket.
The words ‘under attack’ catch my attention before I answer the call. “What?”
“We’re being attacked!” Dante shouts, the noise of gunfire filling the background. “Fucking missiles hit the mansion! Four helicopters,” he relays as much information to me as possible while I hear him fire his weapon.
“The mansion!” I shout at Carlo. “It’s under attack.”
Carlo makes an illegal U-turn in the middle of the road, the tires screeching, before he floors the gas to get us back to the helicopter.
My heart stutters in my chest as the harrowing news sinks in, and for a couple of seconds, I feel completely lost.
I hear Dante suck in harsh breaths. “I don’t recognize anyone. Too many. It’s an army.”
Uncontrollable rage hits me hard, my body trembling from the violent emotion.
“Dante,” I bark. “Where are my women?”
“Don’t…”
I hear the phone hit something and listen as automatic gunfire continues to erupt in the background. It sounds like a fucking war zone.
Christ.
Gabriella. Mamma. Aunt Greta.
“What’s happening?” Carlo growls, drawing my attention to him as he brings the SUV to a sudden stop in the parking area.
“The mansion is being attacked,” I mutter, my tone dark as I shake my head. “It’s all I know.”
The elevator opens, and we rush inside. Carlo presses the button for the roof.
I still have the phone to my ear and listen as the gunfire dies down.
Who won?
Are my women safe?
“Move out,” I hear a man shout, authority in his tone.
No.
“Is that the mother?” someone asks.
I grip the fabric over my heart as intense worry fills me.
“No–” I don’t hear the rest of the reply as the sound of helicopters comes over the line.
They don’t have Mamma.
Ice pours through my veins because there’s only one other person they would take to hit me where it will hurt most.
