Chapter Four: Blood and Fire
Gunshots cracked through the silence like thunder.
Julie ducked behind the hallway column, her chest pounding, palms sweaty against the cold grip of the pistol Lorenzo had given her. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
She wasn't built for this. She was a barista, a literature major, a girl with heartbreak and half-finished dreams.
Not a fighter.
But then she heard it—Lorenzo's voice. Yelling. Followed by the sound of a scuffle. A loud crash.
And just like that, her fear crystallized into something sharper.
Focus.
She gripped the gun tighter and moved.
Each step down the hallway was a prayer, but she kept her back to the wall, ducking low, silent. Her bare feet padded softly over the hardwood. The gunfire had shifted toward the east wing—far from her current position. That gave her time.
She passed the study, the library, the marble stairs. She knew where Lorenzo would go—the control room. That's where the surveillance systems fed into, and where the panic room switch was hidden.
She turned a corner—and froze.
One of the attackers stood ahead, back facing her, rifle slung low as he checked the doors.
Julie's stomach clenched. Her fingers tightened around the pistol.
Don't freeze. You know how to breathe. Pull the trigger only if you have to.
He turned—and their eyes met.
Everything stopped.
Then—
He raised his weapon.
Julie fired.
The sound was deafening, her wrist snapping back with the force. The man cried out, falling back with a shot to the shoulder. He dropped his weapon, clutching his arm.
Julie didn't think—she ran.
Blood roared in her ears. Her lungs burned. But she didn't stop until she reached the stairwell, yanking the door shut behind her.
One floor down.
She descended quickly, adrenaline fueling every step. When she reached the basement level, she followed the narrow corridor to the steel door at the end—the control room.
She pushed it open.
Lorenzo was there—covered in blood, one hand pressed to his side, his other gripping a gun. Marco stood beside him, his jacket torn and a blade in his hand.
Both men turned at the sound of the door.
"Julie—what the hell are you doing down here?" Lorenzo barked.
"I'm not hiding," she said, voice firm. "Where do you need me?"
Marco looked impressed.
Lorenzo looked torn.
Then another crash shook the mansion.
"Marco," Lorenzo growled. "Take her to the vault. Don't argue. Now."
"No," Julie snapped. "I shot someone. I'm in this whether you like it or not."
Lorenzo stared at her for a long moment, eyes blazing.
Then he tossed her a spare comm earpiece.
"Stay close to me. Do exactly what I say."
She nodded.
Together, they moved.
---
The house was a war zone.
Two more attackers had broken in through the garage. Another had been cornered and taken out by Marco in a vicious knife fight that ended in silence.
Julie's heart pounded as she followed Lorenzo through the back hallways. She watched him move like a predator—graceful, silent, deadly. Blood stained his shirt, but he didn't slow.
When they reached the south wing, they found another man—dressed in black, with Matteo's symbol stitched into his chest.
He turned and raised his weapon—
But Julie was faster.
Her shot hit him in the thigh.
He fell with a scream. Lorenzo finished the job with brutal efficiency.
He turned to her, eyes wide. "That was clean," he said.
She didn't answer. Her hands were shaking.
He reached out, gently taking the gun from her grip. "You okay?"
"No," she whispered. "But I will be."
He smiled—small, proud, dark.
Then the smile faded as his earpiece buzzed.
"Boss," Marco's voice came through, tense. "We have a problem. They left something in the east garage. Bomb. Timer's active."
"How long?"
"Two minutes."
Lorenzo turned to Julie. "Go with Marco. Now."
"I'm not leaving you."
He grabbed her shoulders. "This isn't optional, Julie!"
She looked up at him—really looked.
And then she did something neither of them expected.
She kissed him.
Hard. Fierce. Not soft like before. Not hesitant.
But like she was claiming him.
When she pulled back, her voice was trembling.
"If this is it… then I want you to know… I never stopped loving you. Even when I wanted to."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened. His hands cupped her face.
"We're not dying tonight," he whispered. "I just found you again. I'm not losing you."
---
Seconds later, Julie and Marco sprinted to the west exit while Lorenzo stayed behind, his mind racing for a solution. The bomb's wires were embedded, the fuse set professionally.
But he'd disarmed worse.
He breathed once. Then cut the blue wire.
Silence.
Then a beep—and the countdown stopped.
He exhaled.
Alive.
---
Twenty minutes later, the mansion was swarming with Lorenzo's reinforcements. The invaders were either dead or captured. The bomb had been defused. The cameras replayed everything.
Julie sat on the edge of the fountain outside, covered in dirt, blood on her hands.
Lorenzo approached and knelt in front of her.
"You were incredible," he said.
She looked up. "I killed a man."
"You saved your own life. And mine."
She didn't respond.
He reached out and gently took her hand. "You're not who you were, Julie. You're stronger. Fiercer. I always saw it. But now the world will too."
"I didn't want to be this person," she said.
"But you were born to be her," he replied. "The woman who walks through hell and doesn't come out broken."
Their eyes met—and something shifted.
This wasn't just survival anymore.
This was war.
And they'd face it together.