"Wake up. They found Reza."
I jolted upright in Dominic's bed, the sheets pooling around my waist. His expression was grim as he held out his phone, showing me grainy surveillance photos of my friend being forced into a black SUV by two men I recognized from Petrov's entourage.
"Fuck," I whispered, instantly alert. "When?"
"Three hours ago. My men have been tracking the Russians. They've taken him to a warehouse in Cicero."
Cold dread settled in my stomach. "Is he..."
"Alive? For now." Dominic's jaw tightened. "But he won't be for long if they think he knows where your father's evidence is hidden."
I scrambled from the bed, searching for my clothes. "We have to go. Now."
"Valentina." Dominic caught my arm, his grip gentle but firm. "It's a trap. They know you'll come for him."
"I don't care." I yanked away, pulling on my underwear with trembling hands. "He's in this because of me. I'm not leaving him to die."
"I'm not suggesting we abandon him." Dominic's voice was maddeningly calm. "I'm suggesting we be smart about this. My men are watching the warehouse. We need a plan, not a suicide mission."
I paused, knowing he was right but hating it. "What kind of plan?"
"One that keeps both of you alive." He opened a closet I hadn't noticed before, revealing an arsenal that would have made a military unit jealous. "And preferably gets us answers about who's been feeding the Russians information."
Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in tactical gear Dominic had procured—black cargo pants, fitted vest, and boots that somehow fit perfectly. I didn't ask why he had women's tactical gear in his size. Some questions were better left for later.
"Take this." He handed me a sleek handgun, watching as I checked it with practiced efficiency. "You know how to use it?"
"Better than you might think." I tucked it into my holster, along with two extra magazines. "Reza was thorough with my training."
Something like approval flashed in Dominic's eyes. "I'm beginning to think I underestimated you."
"Most people do." I secured my hair—my real hair, the wig abandoned—into a tight bun. "It's usually their last mistake."
His mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
"Too late for that," I countered, but there was no heat in my words. Not anymore.
He stepped closer, his expression turning serious. "Valentina, before we go... If anything happens—"
I pressed my fingers to his lips. "Don't. We're both coming back."
His eyes searched mine for a long moment before he nodded once. "Let's go get your friend."
The drive to Cicero was tense, the silence broken only by occasional updates from Marco, who was coordinating Dominic's men around the warehouse perimeter. I tried not to think about what might be happening to Reza, focusing instead on memorizing the building layout Dominic had pulled up on his tablet.
"Six entrances," he said, pointing to the diagram. "They'll expect us to come through the loading dock or the roof. That's where they'll concentrate their men."
"So we go in another way?"
"No." His smile was cold. "We go in exactly where they expect us—after we give them something else to worry about."
As we approached the industrial district, I could see the warehouse in the distance—a massive, dilapidated structure surrounded by empty lots and abandoned buildings. Perfect for torture and murder. My stomach clenched at the thought.
Dominic pulled into an alley two blocks away, where Marco was waiting with four other men. The one called Tony handed Dominic a small detonator.
"East side is wired," he reported. "Remote-triggered, like you asked. It'll make a hell of a noise but won't bring the building down."
Dominic nodded. "Positions?"
"Eight hostiles inside," Marco said, showing us thermal imaging on his tablet. "Two on the roof, one at each ground-level entrance. Four more inside with the hostage." He pointed to a stationary heat signature in what appeared to be the center of the warehouse. "He's alive, but he's not moving much."
My throat tightened. "Is Volkov there?"
Marco shook his head. "No sign of him yet. But he could be coming."
"Let's not wait for him to join the party." Dominic checked his watch. "We move in two minutes. Remember, we need one of them alive for questioning. Preferably the one in charge."
I caught Marco studying me with undisguised curiosity. I'd met him briefly the night before, after Dominic had made arrangements for my hotel room to be cleared out. He hadn't asked questions then, but his eyes said plenty now.
"Problem?" I challenged.
A hint of a smile crossed his face. "No problem. Just thinking the boss has interesting taste in backup."
"She's not backup," Dominic cut in, his tone brooking no argument. "She's in charge of this operation."
Marco's eyebrows shot up, but he nodded. "Yes, sir."
Dominic turned to me. "Your friend, your lead. What's the call?"
I took a deep breath, pushing aside emotions to focus on tactics. "We use the distraction on the east side. Marco and two men go in through the loading dock—that's where they'll expect the main force. Dominic and I go in through the office entrance on the west side with Tony. We flank them while they're dealing with Marco."
Dominic nodded approvingly. "Clean and simple. I like it."
The plan unfolded with military precision. The explosion on the east side was contained but dramatic, sending several Russians running to investigate. Marco's team engaged them immediately, creating exactly the chaos we needed.
Dominic and I slipped in through the west entrance with Tony covering our backs. The interior was dimly lit, stacks of shipping containers creating a maze of blind corners and potential ambush points. We moved silently, Dominic taking point while I scanned our flanks.
Gunfire erupted from the loading dock area—Marco's distraction working perfectly. We quickened our pace, following the warehouse floor plan toward the central area where Reza was being held.
We found him strapped to a chair in what had once been a foreman's office, glass walls giving us a clear view inside. A single guard stood nearby, speaking urgently into a radio, clearly distracted by the commotion at the loading dock.
Dominic caught my eye, nodding toward the guard. I understood immediately. He would take the guard; I would get Reza.
The execution was flawless. Dominic moved in a blur, disarming the Russian before he could even reach for his weapon. A swift strike to the throat silenced any alarm, and a precision blow to the head rendered him unconscious.
I rushed to Reza, my heart sinking as I took in his condition. His face was a mess of bruises and dried blood, one eye swollen shut. But he was breathing.
"Reza," I whispered, cutting through the zip ties binding his wrists. "It's me. Can you hear me?"
His good eye fluttered open, taking a moment to focus. "Val?" His voice was a rasp, barely audible. "Told them... nothing."
"I know." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "We're getting you out of here."
Dominic appeared at my side, already assessing Reza's injuries with clinical efficiency. "Broken ribs, possibly a punctured lung. We need to move carefully."
Reza's gaze shifted to Dominic, confusion giving way to alarm. He tried to speak, coughing painfully instead.
"Val—" Reza managed, blood speckling his lips. "Trap."
Before I could process his warning, the lights in the warehouse flared to full brightness. A voice echoed over a loudspeaker system, speaking in flawless, accented English.
"Mr. Castellano. Ms. Ricci. Thank you for joining us this morning."
Alexei Volkov. My blood ran cold.
"I see you've collected your friend. How touching." His voice dripped with mock sincerity. "Unfortunately, your departure has been... delayed."
Dominic's hand went to his earpiece. "Marco, report." His expression darkened at whatever response he received. "Understood. Hold position."
"Your men have encountered some resistance," Volkov continued, as if he'd heard the exchange. "Nothing fatal yet, but that could change quickly."
Dominic's eyes met mine, his expression grim. "How many?" I asked.
"More than we expected," he replied quietly. "They were waiting."
Reza's warning echoed in my mind. Trap. But who had set it?
"A standoff is so tedious," Volkov sighed over the speakers. "So let me propose a solution. Ms. Ricci comes with me, and everyone else lives. Simple, yes?"
"Fuck you," I called out, scanning the warehouse for cameras. "Show yourself, coward."
A chuckle resonated through the space. "Still your father's daughter, I see. He called me a coward too, right before I put a bullet in his chest."
Rage surged through me, hot and blinding. Dominic's hand on my arm was the only thing that kept me from rushing out in search of Volkov.
"What do you want?" Dominic demanded, his voice carrying through the cavernous space.
"What I've always wanted," Volkov replied. "The evidence Alessandro Ricci collected before his unfortunate demise. The names. The accounts. All of it."
"I don't have it," I said, truthfully. "I never did."
"Perhaps not knowingly," Volkov conceded. "But your father was a clever man. He would have hidden it somewhere only you could find."
Movement caught my eye—shadows shifting between containers on the far side of the warehouse. Dominic saw it too, subtly positioning himself between me and the potential threat.
"You have one minute to decide, Ms. Ricci," Volkov continued. "Come with me willingly, or I start shooting Mr. Castellano's men one by one. Beginning with the one you call Marco."
Dominic's jaw tightened. "Don't even think about it," he muttered to me.
"I'm not letting anyone else die because of me," I whispered back.
"Thirty seconds," Volkov announced.
Reza stirred in the chair, his good eye finding mine. "The summer house," he rasped. "Your father's study. The picture."
Understanding dawned. The summer house where my father had taken me days before his death. Where he'd shown me the hidden safe behind my mother's portrait and made me memorize the combination—his and my mother's anniversary date.
"What's at the summer house?" Dominic asked urgently.
"Evidence," I breathed. "It has to be. He showed me a safe but told me never to open it unless something happened to him. I forgot about it after... after everything."
"Ten seconds," Volkov called.
Dominic made a swift decision. "Tony," he called softly into his comm. "Smoke protocol. Now."
Almost immediately, smoke grenades deployed throughout the warehouse, dense gray clouds billowing up from multiple points. In the confusion, Dominic hauled Reza to his feet, supporting his weight.
"West exit," he ordered. "Move!"
We half-dragged, half-carried Reza through the smoke, guided by Dominic's seemingly perfect mental map of the warehouse. Gunfire erupted behind us, but the smoke provided enough cover to reach the exit unscathed.
Outside, Dominic's driver was waiting with the engine running. We loaded Reza into the backseat, and I climbed in beside him while Dominic returned to the warehouse entrance.
"Get them clear," he instructed the driver. "Take them to the safe house. I'll handle extraction of the others."
"What? No!" I grabbed his arm. "You're coming with us."
His eyes softened briefly as they met mine. "I need to get my men out. Marco's pinned down."
"Then I'm coming with you."
"Valentina." His voice was firm. "Reza needs medical attention. And you need to stay alive to find that evidence." He leaned in, pressing a swift, hard kiss to my lips. "This isn't goodbye. It's just a brief separation."
Before I could argue further, he slammed the car door and signaled the driver to go. As we pulled away, I watched Dominic sprint back toward the warehouse, gun drawn.
"He's... not what I expected," Reza murmured, his head lolling against my shoulder.
"No," I agreed, my eyes fixed on Dominic's retreating form. "He's not."
The safe house turned out to be a luxury apartment in a high-rise overlooking the lake—another property owned by the Castellano family under a shell corporation. A doctor was waiting for us, immediately tending to Reza's injuries while I paced anxiously, waiting for news of Dominic and his men.
Two hours passed. Then three. No word.
"He'll be fine," Reza assured me from the bed where he'd been patched up. The doctor had confirmed three broken ribs and a mild concussion, but miraculously no internal bleeding. "From what I saw, Castellano can handle himself."
I sank into a chair beside him. "What did they ask you? The Russians?"
Reza's expression darkened. "They wanted to know where your father's evidence was hidden. Where you were staying. How much you knew." He paused, wincing as he shifted position. "They seemed convinced you had something—some kind of proof about a mole in Castellano's organization."
"And they thought my father told me before he died?"
"Or left it for you to find." Reza studied me with his good eye. "Did he?"
I nodded slowly. "I think so. The safe at the summer house... it must contain whatever he found." I leaned forward. "Reza, did you get a chance to analyze those files I sent you? Was there anything else?"
"Not much. But there was one thing..." He hesitated. "The code you mentioned, the one attached to your father's murder file? It appeared one other place in the documents—a payment authorization form signed by someone with the initial 'M.'"
Marco? My mind immediately went to Dominic's right hand, the man who'd been coordinating the rescue operation. The man who was now alone with Dominic.
"I need to warn him," I said, reaching for my phone.
Reza caught my wrist. "Val, wait. Think. If Marco is the mole, calling Dominic might put him in more danger."
He was right. I needed to be smart about this. "I need to get to the summer house. Find the evidence."
"We need to get to the summer house," Reza corrected, already trying to sit up.
"You're injured."
"And you're walking into a death trap if you go alone." He managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing with pain. "Besides, I'm the only one who can verify what we find. You need me."
I knew better than to argue. "Fine. But we wait for Dominic. He'll have resources, protection."
"And if he doesn't come back?" Reza asked quietly.
The thought sent ice through my veins. "He will."
As if summoned by my certainty, my phone rang. Unknown number.
"Valentina." Dominic's voice was strained, but he was alive. Relief flooded through me.
"Are you okay? What happened?"
"Ambush. We got out, but Marco took a bullet." His breathing was labored. "Listen carefully. The safe house isn't secure anymore. You need to move. Now."
Fear clawed at my throat. "What do you mean? How—"
"Someone knew where I'd send you. Someone inside." The sound of screeching tires came through the line. "I'm on my way, but I might not make it before they get there."
"Dominic, Marco—is he the mole? The files showed a payment signed by someone with the initial 'M'."
"Not Marco." His voice was grim. "My mother."
The revelation hit like a physical blow. "Sophia?"
"It makes sense now. The Russians knew too much about our operations, our safe houses. She has access to everything." A pause. "I trusted her completely."
The sound of a door opening made me freeze. I turned slowly to see the doctor who'd treated Reza standing in the doorway, a silenced pistol in his hand.
"Dominic," I whispered into the phone. "They're already here."
The doctor smiled, cold and professional. "Ms. Ricci. Mr. Volkov sends his regards."
I heard Dominic shouting through the phone as it was wrenched from my hand. The doctor crushed it beneath his foot.
"Now," he said calmly, gesturing with the gun. "Both of you will come with me. Mr. Volkov is most eager to continue your conversation."
Reza and I exchanged looks. We were outnumbered, outgunned, and Reza was injured. Our options were limited.
But I was my father's daughter. And I wasn't going down without a fight.
"Tell Volkov he can go fuck himself," I spat, shifting my weight subtly. The knife I'd strapped to my ankle earlier was still there, hidden beneath my pant leg.
The doctor sighed. "I was told you'd be difficult. That's why I came prepared."
He raised his other hand, revealing a syringe. "This can happen the easy way, with you walking out of here conscious. Or the hard way, with you carried out unconscious. Your choice."
"There's a third option," came a voice from behind him.
The doctor turned just as Sophia Castellano pressed a gun to the back of his head.
"You die here," she said pleasantly, "and they stay with me."
Confusion paralyzed me. Dominic had just accused his mother of being the mole. Why would she be helping us?
The doctor seemed equally confused. "Mrs. Castellano? This isn't the plan."
"Plans change." She pulled the trigger without hesitation, the silenced shot dropping the man to the floor.
Reza and I stared in stunned silence as Sophia stepped over the body, her elegant pantsuit somehow immaculate despite the blood spatter.
"We don't have much time," she said briskly. "More will be coming. Grab whatever you need."
"Why are you helping us?" I demanded, not moving. "Dominic thinks you're working with the Russians."
A flash of pain crossed her aristocratic features. "My son has always been quick to judge. A trait he inherited from his father." She tucked the gun into her purse with practiced ease. "I'm not the mole, Valentina. But I know who is."
"Why should we trust you?"
"Because I loved Alessandro Ricci," she replied simply. "And I promised him I'd protect his daughter if anything happened to him."
My world tilted again. "You... knew my father?"
"Better than anyone." Her eyes—so like Dominic's—held mine steadily. "He was my lover for fifteen years. And Dominic's real father."
The floor seemed to drop out from under me. Dominic was my... brother?
"That's not possible," I whispered, my mind reeling with the implications.
"I assure you, it is." Sophia's expression softened. "And it's why I've been protecting both of you, in my own way. But we don't have time for explanations now. Volkov's men will be here any minute."
"Where's Dominic?" Reza asked, voicing the question I couldn't form.
"Being detained, temporarily." Sophia's jaw tightened. "The real mole made sure of it. We need to get to the summer house before they do."
"How do you know about the summer house?" I asked.
"Because I was the one who helped Alessandro hide the evidence there." She held out her hand. "Come with me if you want to live long enough to save my son. Your brother."
Brother. The word echoed in my mind, alongside flashes of memory—Dominic's hands on my skin, his mouth on mine, his body moving inside me just hours before.
Oh god. What had we done?
Numbly, I took her hand, helping Reza to his feet with the other. Whatever the truth was, whatever horrors awaited us, one thing was clear: the game had changed completely. And Dominic's life now hung in the balance.
As we slipped out the back entrance of the apartment building, I made a silent vow. I would find the evidence. I would save Dominic. And then I would face the devastating truth that threatened to destroy everything we had just found in each other.
"Stay close," Sophia instructed as we reached a sleek black car idling at the curb. "Trust no one but me."
But as her eyes met mine, I glimpsed something there that sent a chill down my spine. Something calculating. Something that made me wonder if I was walking straight into another trap.
Behind us, sirens wailed in the distance. Ahead, nothing but uncertainty and secrets buried for decades.
And somewhere, Dominic was in danger, not knowing that the woman he'd made love to last night might be his own sister.
"Fuck," I whispered, sliding into the backseat beside Reza. "What have I done?"