Chapter 28 The crashes downstairs make my blood run cold-until I hear Marco's irritated voice cutting through the chaos. "What the fucking hell are you idiots doing down there? This is supposed to be a covert operation!" Oh thank God. Marco's men, not Lorenzo's. I lower my weapon just as Marco appears in the doorway, only to freeze when he finds himself staring down the barrel of my Glock. "Really, Sofia?" he says dryly. "I was gone for twenty minutes." "Sorry." I holster the gun, but don't look apologetic. "Your men sound like a herd of elephants. I thought we were under attack." "Trust me, if my men were half as competent as elephants, I'd be thrilled." He shakes his head in exasperation. "Tony just knocked over an entire fucking shelf of paint cans trying to clear the building. Subtlety is not his strong suit." "Clearly runs in the family," I counter. Marco's expression turns serious as he takes in the scene-our weapons ready, the research we've been doing in his absence. "We need to move. Lorenzo's escalating faster than we anticipated." "Where to?" I ask, grabbing our packed gear. "The estate. There's a hidden command center beneath the main house-a war room Dad built during the territorial disputes in the '90s." Marco's expression is stern as he checks his weapons. "If we're going to coordinate a real counterattack, we need proper resources." The drive through the city is tense, multiple route changes and counter-surveillance protocols that speak to just how dangerous our situation has become. We switch vehicles twice, use service tunnels that most family members don't even know exist, and employ electronic countermeasures that would make the CIA jealous. But we make it to the estate without incident, slipping through maintenance passages that even Lorenzo doesn't know about-access points Dad built during construction that never made it onto any official blueprints. The hidden command center takes my breath away. I've lived in this house my entire life, walked past the innocent-looking utility room door thousands of times, never knowing it concealed an elevator that descends three stories underground. The facility that opens before us is something out of a spy thriller-banks of monitors displaying feeds from across the city, secure communication arrays that can reach anywhere in the world, and enough firepower to outfit a small army. "Jesus," I breathe, taking in the scope of it. "How long has this been here?" "Since before you were born," Marco says, moving to the central command station with the familiarity of someone who's spent considerable time here. "Dad started building it during the Torrino war, finished it when the Russian families moved into our territory in '98." The main screen displays a map of New York with blinking lights indicating family assets, allied positions, and potential threats. Smaller monitors show real-time feeds from our various properties, while communication consoles crackle with updates from field teams. This isn't just a safe house-it's the nerve center of the Renaldi empire. The place where the real decisions get made, where wars are planned and won. And I've never seen it before because no one thought the princess needed to know about the ugly realities of how our family maintains power. Looking at it now, I realize how much of our actual operations I've been sheltered from. The security briefings I attended were just the sanitized version. This is where the real business happens. "What's going on," Marco demands as soon as we're operational, his voice carrying the authority of someone completely in his element. "Your parents' security detail was compromised," Joey Castillo reports in a low voice. He's been with our family for over a decade, one of Dad's most trusted lieutenants. "Lorenzo's people got to the safe house first. They knew exactly where to look, exactly when the shift change would happen." My heart beats erratically. "Are Mom and Dad⁠-" "Safe. Mario got them out in time, but it was close." Marco runs a hand through his hair, stress evident in every line of his body. "Too close. The safe house burned to the ground, and three of our men didn't make it out." The knowledge sits heavy. Three more people dead because of Lorenzo's betrayal. Three more families that will never be whole again. "Then we stop running," I say, moving to the central computer terminal. "Lorenzo wants us scattered, defensive, reacting to his moves instead of making our own." "By doing what?" Marco demands. "Walking into his trap?" "By setting our own." Dante moves to study the displays over my shoulder, his presence steady and grounding even in this underground fortress. "Sofia's right. We have something Lorenzo doesn't expect." "What's that?" Marco asks. "Us." I meet both their eyes, seeing the same determination I feel reflected back at me. "Working together. All of us. Not running, not hiding-fighting back as a unified force with full access to everything Dad built." The awkwardness between Marco and Dante is palpable, but when I start pulling up schematics and intelligence files, they both lean in to listen. An hour later, we're fully operational and the scope of our resources becomes clear. Marco coordinates with field teams across the city, positioning assets and gathering intelligence with the practiced efficiency of someone who's been preparing for this kind of war his entire life. Each team reports in with seamless coordination-movements spotted, positions secured, weapons readied. Dante works his network of contacts, the shadowy figures who exist in the spaces between legal and illegal, gathering intelligence that won't show up on any official channels. His secure phone barely stops ringing as informants, fixers, and old associates feed him real-time updates about Viktor's operations, Dominic's movements, and Lorenzo's coordination efforts. "Viktor's men are moving," Dante reports, studying incoming intelligence on multiple screens. "Three teams, approaching from the north. Military contractors, not street thugs. They're using standard urban assault protocols, coordinated timing, proper equipment." "Let them come." Marco checks his weapons. "We're ready for⁠-" "Wait." Something in the security feed catches my eye, an inconsistency that makes my blood run cold. "That's-that's not right." Both men move to look over my shoulder as I enhance the image. On the screen, guards patrol the estate's eastern border-guards wearing our colors, carrying our equipment, moving in our patrol patterns. "Those guards should be with Mom and Dad at their secure location," I realize, cross-referencing the duty roster with the visual feeds. "But they're here. Which means either our parents are unprotected, or these aren't our men." "Lorenzo's already inside our systems," Marco says, understanding immediately. "He's not just feeding us false data-he's actively manipulating our security feeds to hide his people's positions." "How?" I demand, my fingers already flying over the keyboard as I trace the intrusion. "I changed all the protocols after we discovered his initial breach. Updated every encryption key, modified every access point." "The Council override." The final piece clicks into place as I dig deeper into the system logs. "Every family has emergency access protocols that supersede individual security measures. They were designed to allow coordinated responses during territory wars, but Lorenzo didn't just get Council support for tomorrow's tribunal." I pull up the access logs, and my stomach seizes. "He got their master security credentials," I finish, horror dawning as I realize the implications. "Which means he can walk right into any of our systems, anywhere, any time. He's been inside our networks for months, maybe longer." "Not anymore." I crack my knuckles and settle in for what I know will be the most complex hack of my life. "He thinks he knows all my tricks. Thinks he taught me everything I know about systems and security." "But?" Marco prompts, though he's already moving to defensive positions, recognizing the signs that an attack is imminent. "But he underestimated what I learned surviving the auction house." My smile is bitter as I start building countermeasures in real-time. "When I had nothing but time and a desperate need to find weaknesses in every system around me." The work is intricate, requiring me to think like Lorenzo while building defenses he won't expect. I create false data streams to confuse his intelligence gathering, set up honeypot access points that will alert me to his attempts at infiltration, and begin constructing a digital fortress around our real communications. "Team Two, report status." James's voice crackles through the comms, and something in his tone makes every instinct I have scream danger. I freeze, fingers hovering over the keyboard as I cross-reference his reported position with the visual feeds I'm monitoring in real-time. The security logs show Team Two stationed at the north gate, maintaining standard patrol patterns and reporting all clear. But I'm looking at feeds showing that same team at the east entrance, moving with purpose toward the main house. "James?" Marco frowns at the discrepancy I'm highlighting on his screen. "What's your actual position?" "North gate secure, sir. All quiet here." His voice carries the same submissive tone it always has, but now I can hear the subtle satisfaction underneath. "No movement detected on our perimeter." My heart pounds as I pull up multiple camera angles, showing Marco the empty north gate, the real position of Team Two, and the timestamp discrepancies that prove James has been feeding us false information for who knows how long. "He's lying," I whisper, the betrayal wrapping around my throat like a noose. "He's been feeding them our positions while misdirecting us about theirs. James knows every detail of our security protocols, every weakness in our defenses." Understanding dawns in Marco's eyes-the same sick realization I'm having. James Burton, his head of security for five years, the man he trusted with family safety, with my protection, with the most sensitive operational details-he's been working with Lorenzo this entire time. "How long?" Marco asks quietly, but rage crackles underneath. I dig through the logs, my fingers flying as I trace James's access patterns over the past months. What I find makes my heart sputter. "Since before the auction," I report, the scope of the betrayal becoming clear. "He's been logging our movements, documenting our capabilities, reporting our plans. Every security meeting, every tactical decision, every protective detail-Lorenzo's known about all of it." "Son of a bitch," Dante growls, already moving to secure additional weapons. Before any of us can react, the first explosion rocks the building above us. The reinforced ceiling shudders, dust raining down as Lorenzo's forces begin their coordinated assault on our home. "North gate breach!" There's unmistakable glee in James's voice, the pretense finally dropped. "Multiple hostiles, requesting immediate backup!" "That's not the north gate," Dante says sharply, already reading the displays that show the real point of attack. "They're hitting us from three sides simultaneously. Using our own communication system to coordinate while feeding us false intelligence about their positions." More explosions, closer now. The hidden command center's defenses are holding, but I can hear the methodical destruction happening above us as Lorenzo's forces implement the attack plan James helped them develop. "Move!" Marco shoves me toward the emergency exit as the sound of automatic weapons fire echoes through the reinforced walls. "Get her out⁠-" "No!" I break free, grabbing my laptop and the portable drive containing all our intelligence. "I can shut down their access completely. Cut off James's ability to coordinate with them, blind their intelligence gathering, turn their own tactics against them. I just need two minutes." "Sofia-" Both men start to protest, their protective instincts overriding their senses. "Trust me!" I meet their eyes, seeing fear and love and respect warring in their expressions. "This is what I do. This is what I'm good at. Let me use it." A silent understanding passes between them, old loyalty overriding new conflicts. Then, as one, they move to defensive positions that will cover me while I work, their differences forgotten in the face of immediate danger. I dive back into the system, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I build the most sophisticated cyberattack of my life. Not just defensive measures now, but an active counter strike. I'm going to turn Lorenzo's own network against him, use James's access to feed them false information, and create chaos in their coordinated assault. The work requires every technique I know, every trick I learned during sleepless nights in college and running cons in hostile territories. I'm not just hacking systems-I'm conducting digital warfare. I'm almost through Lorenzo's primary firewall when the distinctive crack of a sniper round echoes through the command center. The sound is impossibly loud in the enclosed space, followed immediately by the spider-web fracturing of reinforced glass. "Get down!" Dante slams into me as the bulletproof window explodes inward, safety glass raining down like deadly confetti. We hit the ground hard, my laptop skittering across the floor as I struggle to breathe with Dante's weight pressing me into the concrete. When I look up, Marco is staggering backward, blood blooming across his shoulder like a crimson flower. His face is white with shock and pain, but he's still returning fire with his good arm, using his body to shield us from the sniper's position. "Marco!" I scream, terror and rage coursing through me in equal measure. This is my brother, my protector, the man who's always stood between me and danger. "I'm fine!" he shouts back, though he struggles to aim and apply pressure to his bleeding wound at the same time. "Keep working! We need those systems back under our control!" The sight of my brother's blood sends something cold and deadly flowing through my veins. Not panic this time, not fear, but crystalline focus. These bastards hurt my family. They violated our home. They think they can break us with violence and betrayal. They're about to learn exactly how wrong they are. I grab my laptop, ignoring the cuts on my hands from the broken glass, and plug back into the system with renewed determination. My fingers blur over the keys. "No more running," I mutter to myself. "No more hiding. No more letting them hurt the people I love." The security system comes back under our control in a cascade of green lights and restored feeds. But I don't stop there. I keep pushing, infiltrating Lorenzo's communication networks, James's personal systems, even the coordination protocols Viktor's men are using. Within minutes, I can see everything-their real positions, their actual numbers, their true strategy, their escape routes, their backup plans. And more importantly, I can start feeding them false information, creating confusion in their ranks, turning their coordination into chaos. "What now?" Marco asks through gritted teeth, applying field dressings to his wound while maintaining his position. Despite the blood loss, his eyes are clear and focused, the sharp mind that's kept our family alive for years already planning our counterattack. I meet Dante's eyes across the command center, seeing my own resolve reflected in those slate-gray depths. See the love and fierce protectiveness that's driven him to risk everything for me. See the absolute trust that tells me he'll follow me into hell if that's what it takes. "Now?" I smile without humor. "Now we show them exactly what happens when they hurt my family. When they violate our home. When they think they can destroy us." I turn back to my keyboard, fingers dancing across the keys as I prepare to unleash everything I've learned about digital warfare. "Lorenzo thinks he knows me. Thinks he understands what I'm capable of. James thinks his betrayal gives them an insurmountable advantage." My voice carries absolute certainty as I watch our enemies' coordination begin to crumble under my digital assault. "They're both about to discover something really fucking important." "What rose from those ashes," I continue, my smile turning gleeful as I take complete control of their communication systems, "is something they're not prepared for." I look at my wounded brother, at the man I love, and at the command center that represents everything our family has built over generations. Lorenzo wants war? Let's give him war. But this time, we're fighting it on my terms. 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...