Chapter 18 The first explosion hits thirty seconds later. Glass erupts inward as the west wall buckles, debris flying through the air like shrapnel. Armed figures pour through the breach before the dust settles-black tactical gear, night vision goggles, weapons I recognize as military grade. I'm already moving, grabbing Sofia and pulling her behind the stone fireplace just as automatic weapons fire tears through the space where we'd been standing. "Two through the breach!" I shout, returning fire through the shattered window. My shots force them to take cover behind overturned furniture, buying us precious seconds. Splinters explode from the wooden beams as their return fire chews through the cabin's interior. Sofia is beside me, weapon steady in her hands despite the chaos. No hesitation, no panic-just cold focus as she angles for a clear shot at the lead attacker. Her bullet takes him center mass. He drops without a sound, blood pooling beneath his black fatigues. Pride and terror wars. She's magnificent, but these aren't amateurs we're facing. These are professionals who came here to kill us both, and they're not going to make the same mistake twice. "Movement on the north side!" Sofia calls out, spotting muzzle flashes through what's left of the window. I pivot, laying down suppressing fire as more figures attempt to breach from multiple angles. Bullets punch through the thin kitchenette walls like they're made of paper. This is exactly what I'd feared-a coordinated assault designed to overwhelm us with superior numbers and firepower. "Covering fire," I shout to Sofia as I reload. She leans out, her shots measured and calculated. Another attacker goes down, his scream cutting through the gunfire before ending abruptly. She's not just shooting-she's thinking, picking her targets and making every bullet count. A metallic clatter moves across the floor. Flash-bang. I grab Sofia, shielding her with my body as the world explodes in white light and deafening noise. The concussion hits like a physical blow, my ears ringing so loudly I can't hear my own breathing. My vision is nothing but white spots and shadows. But Sofia isn't moving. She's frozen, her weapon lowered, staring at the gunman with wide, unfocused eyes. Her breathing has gone rapid and shallow-I recognize the signs. Panic attack. Flashback. The sound of automatic weapons, the feeling of being trapped and helpless-it's all brought her back to that auction house. "Sofia!" I shout, but she doesn't respond. She's not here anymore. She's back on that platform, surrounded by men with guns, helpless and afraid. The attacker's finger tightens on the trigger. I throw myself between them just as he fires, the bullet meant for Sofia's head barely grazing my shoulder instead. Pain explodes through my arm, but I'm already returning fire, putting two bullets through him. He drops, but there are more coming. "Sofia!" I grab her face with my good hand, forcing her to look at me. "Look at me! You're not there anymore. You're here. You're safe. You're with me." Well, safe-ish. We are in the middle of a fight after all. Her eyes gradually focus on mine, confusion and fear giving way to recognition. "Dante? I...the sound...I couldn't..." "I know." I press my forehead against hers for just a second, feeling warm blood from my shoulder wound seeping through my shirt. "I know, principessa. But I need you here with me. Can you do that?" She nods shakily, her training starting to override the trauma response. "I'm sorry, I⁠-" "Don't apologize," I tell her firmly. "Just stay with me." Another burst of gunfire snaps us both back to the immediate threat. Sofia's eyes clear completely, her grip on her weapon steadying. The soldier in her reasserting itself over the victim. "Behind you!" Sofia shouts. I spin, putting two bullets into an attacker trying to flank us through the bedroom. He crashes into the doorframe, weapon clattering across the floor as blood sprays across the wall behind him. "Nice shot," Sofia calls out, taking down another figure moving through the kitchenette. "Though I think you just ruined your grandfather's mirror." "My grandfather's probably rolling in his grave watching his cabin get shot to pieces." I duck as return fire chips stone from the fireplace. "He spent forty years hiding this place from the feds, and we're about to burn it down in ten minutes." "Sorry about that," Sofia says, not sounding sorry at all as she puts two more bullets into an attacker's center mass. "I'll buy him a nice wreath." We work together like we've been doing this for years instead of minutes. When I'm reloading, she covers me, her shots keeping enemies pinned. When she needs to move position, I provide suppressing fire, forcing them to keep their heads down. We're outnumbered and outgunned, but we have the advantage of knowing every corner of this cabin-and the desperation of people who refuse to die. The acrid smell of gunpowder fills the air, mixing with the scent of splintered wood and blood. Brass casings litter the floor around us, evidence of just how much ammunition we're burning through. "Reloading!" Sofia calls. I step up, spraying covering fire as she slams a fresh magazine home. A figure appears in the doorway-I put him down with three shots to the chest. He crumples backward, taking out a cabinet as he falls. "That was my grandfather's good China," I mutter. "Was it expensive?" Sofia asks, taking aim at movement through the shattered window. "Priceless family heirloom." "Well, now it's priceless family confetti," she quips, her shot dropping another attacker before he can get a clear angle on us. "At least it's still in the family." Another attacker comes through the bedroom, then two more through the destroyed west wall. They're coordinating, timing their advances to stretch our defensive capabilities. "We need to move!" I shout to Sofia. "They're going to overrun us!" "Where exactly do you suggest we go?" she calls back, reloading with practiced efficiency. "The spa? The wine cellar? Oh wait-your grandfather was a bootlegger, not a Bond villain!" Despite everything, I almost smile. Even in a firefight, she can't help but let the real Sofia shine through. "Smart mouth is going to get you killed," I tell her, taking down two more attackers. "My smart mouth has gotten me out of worse situations than this," she retorts. "Have I ever told you about that time in Rome when I talked my way out of⁠-" "Focus!" I shout as more muzzle flashes light up the darkness outside. But there's nowhere to go. They've got the exits covered, and we're trapped in an ever-shrinking defensive circle. Sofia spots something I miss-movement through the back window. Her shot shatters glass and drops another attacker before he can get a clear angle on us. "That's their sniper!" she calls out. "He was covering their advance!" With their overwatch eliminated, the remaining attackers become more cautious, less coordinated. I can feel the momentum shifting. Sofia and I fire simultaneously at the last two figures trying to breach through the front door. They both go down hard, their weapons skittering across the blood-slicked floor. Then, suddenly, silence. I count heartbeats, listening for any sign of movement. Nothing but the crackle of flames where the breaching charge hit the wall, the ringing in my ears, and the sound of our own ragged breathing. I count heartbeats, listening for any sign of movement. Nothing but the crackle of flames where the breaching charge hit the wall and the ringing in my ears. "Clear," Sofia calls softly from her position. "Clear," I confirm, but I keep my weapon raised as I move to check the bodies. Professional gear, no identification. Exactly what I expected. I turn to find Sofia watching me, her chest heaving. There's a small cut on her cheek where debris caught her, blood trickling down to her jaw. Her eyes are bright, fierce, alive. Beautiful and deadly in ways that steal my breath. "You hurt?" I ask, moving toward her, my own breathing still uneven. "I'm fine." Her voice is steady despite everything we just survived, despite the bodies scattered around us. "You?" "Never better." I reach out, cupping her face to examine the cut. My thumb traces just below the wound, and I feel her sharp intake of breath. The touch is meant to be clinical, checking for injury. It isn't. The moment my skin meets hers, everything changes. The relief of survival, the way she's looking at me with those dark eyes-it all crashes together into something I can't resist. "Dante..." My name is barely a breath on her lips, but I hear everything she's not saying. The want. The need. The acknowledgment that we almost died, that life is too short for the games we've been playing. I should step back. Should check the perimeter for more threats, start planning our next move. We're standing in a cabin full of corpses, and all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss her. I find myself leaning closer, drawn in by the fire in her eyes, the slight part of her lips, the way her free hand reaches up to fist in my blood-stained shirt. "We should..." But I can't remember what we should do. Not with her looking at me like that. Like she wants me just as much as I want her. "Should what?" She tilts her face up, challenging me even now. Always challenging me. Her other hand drops her weapon to the floor with a soft thud, then it comes up to rest against my chest, right over my heart. My self-control breaks away. I back her against the wall, one hand tangling in her hair as the other pulls her flush against me. Her sharp intake of breath turns into a soft sound that nearly destroys what's left of my restraint. She's all heat and curves pressed against me, and, when her arms wind around my neck, I forget how to breathe. This is what I've been craving since that night in the motel-her body against mine, her hands in my hair, the way she fits perfectly in my arms like she was made for me. But that kiss was desperate, interrupted, stolen in a moment of terror. This is different. This is choice. This is Sofia choosing me despite everything, despite the danger, despite Marco's inevitable fury. Her lips are soft, perfect, everything I've imagined and more. When she opens for me, when her tongue meets mine, I groan against her mouth like a man dying. She kisses me back with the same fierce intensity she showed in the fight-no hesitation, no holding back. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, deeper, until there's no space left between us. I can feel her heart racing against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. This is what I've wanted for years. This heat, this passion, this perfect woman in my arms kissing me like the world is ending. Because maybe it is. Maybe we're both going to die in the next few hours, and this is all we get. I press her harder against the stone wall, my hands mapping the curves of her body through her clothes. She arches into me, and the soft sound she makes breaks what's left of my control. I want to strip her bare right here, want to claim her in ways that would horrify her brother, want to⁠- My phone rings. We freeze, breathing hard against each other's mouths. The ringtone cuts through the silence like a blade-Mario's emergency line. The one Marco doesn't know about, the one that reminds me who I really work for when everything else falls apart. Reality crashes back down around us. Bodies on the floor. Blood on the walls. Somewhere out there, more enemies hunt us. "Answer it," Sofia whispers against my lips, but her hands don't leave my chest nor push me away. I keep her pinned against the wall with my body as I answer, unable to step away. Unable to break the contact that feels like the only real thing in a world gone insane. "Report," I say, hoping my voice doesn't crack. Mario's voice comes through, tight with tension and something that sounds like barely controlled fury. "Marco's been shot." The world seems to slow, freezing the blood in my veins. Sofia must read the shock on my face because her hands tighten on my shirt, her eyes going wide with fear that mirrors my own. "How bad?" I force the words out through a throat that's suddenly tight. "He'll live," Mario says quickly, and I feel Sofia's body sag with relief against me. "He's alive, but Jesus, Dante, it was close. Too fucking close. Shoulder, but the shooter knew what he was doing." Sofia's breathing steadies, though tears still track down her cheeks. Not life-threatening, but still her brother. Still someone trying to kill the people we love. "Where is he now?" I ask, my free hand stroking her hair in comfort. "New safe house upstate. Private doctor, full security detail." Mario's voice is tight now. "But Dante, he found something. Something big enough that they tried to silence him for it." "We need extraction," I tell Mario. "The cabin's compromised. Bodies everywhere." "Working on it. I've got a team en route, but they're forty minutes out. Can you hold position?" I look around at the destroyed cabin, the bodies scattered across the floor. Forty minutes feels like a lifetime when we're this exposed. "We'll manage," I say. "Just get here fast." "Copy that. Stay sharp." The line goes dead. I slide the phone back into my pocket and turn to Sofia, who's wiping blood from the cut on her cheek. "Forty minutes," I tell her. "We need to secure the perimeter, make sure⁠-" The remaining windows explode inward. Not from gunfire this time-from more flash-bang grenades that turn the world into a nightmare of white light and deafening noise. I'm reaching for Sofia when the concussion hits, sending me staggering backward as my vision dissolves into strobing chaos. "Sofia!" I shout, but I can't hear my own voice over the ringing in my ears. Dark figures pour through the shattered windows like smoke. I fire blind, my shots going wide as disorientation overwhelms my senses. These aren't the same attackers from before-these are fresh, coordinated, and they know exactly what they're doing. A boot connects with my ribs, sending me crashing into the stone fireplace. Pain explodes through my injured shoulder as I hit the ground, my weapon skittering across the blood-slicked floor. Through the chaos, I see Sofia fighting like a wildcat. She's taken down one attacker, is grappling with a second, her movements fluid and deadly despite the disorientation. But there are too many of them. "Get your hands off me!" she screams, her voice cutting through the chaos. I lunge toward her, but something hard slams into the back of my skull. Stars explode across my vision as I go down, tasting blood. Through blurred sight, I watch three men overwhelm Sofia, zip-tying her hands behind her back as she struggles against them. "Dante! Oh god, Dante!" Her voice cracks, high and panicked. "Please, please be okay⁠-" I force myself up, fear overriding the agony in my head and shoulder. My hands close around a piece of broken glass, the edges cutting into my palm as I slash at the nearest attacker. He shouts, stumbling backward with blood streaming down his face. But it's not enough. A taser hits me in my chest, electricity locking every muscle in my body. I convulse, unable to control my movements as they swarm over me. "No!" Sofia's scream is pure anguish as they drag her toward the destroyed window. "Let him go! I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt him!" I try to speak, to tell her not to bargain for my life, but the electricity has stolen my voice. All I can do is watch as they manhandle the woman I love, her face streaked with tears and blood. A masked man crouches beside me as his men secure my restraints. "Nothing personal, Mr. Moretti. Just business." "I'll kill you," I manage to rasp out through gritted teeth. "All of you." His laugh is muffled by the disguise. "You'll try." They haul me to my feet, and I get one last look at Sofia. Her wild eyes find mine across the chaos, and I see the same thing I felt in that moment before I first kissed her-absolute trust. Even now, even terrified and bound, she believes I'll find a way to save us both. "Dante!" she calls out as they force her through the window. "Don't you dare give up on me!" "Never," I shout back, struggling against the hands holding me. "I'll find you! I'll⁠-" Something hard crashes into the base of my skull. The world tilts sideways, Sofia's scream echoing in my ears as darkness rushes up to claim me. The last thing I see is her face, streaked with tears before everything goes black. In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...