Chapter 4 - The Golden Cage Broken
The breach inside the estate meant the inner sanctum had been compromised.
Within twenty minutes, Damiano’s top lieutenant, a stoic enforcer named Dante, had cleared the hall and secured a fortified convoy of four blacked-out armored SUVs in the underground garage.
“We’re moving to the safehouse in Upstate New York,” Damiano commanded, holding a thick white bandage against his shoulder as a private doctor finished suturing his wound. “The Vance family pulled out all the stops. They bribed a perimeter guard to get that team inside.”
“I’m coming with you to hold the perimeter, Boss,” Dante insisted, racking the slide of his rifle.
“No,” Damiano said coldly. “I want you in Queens. Find the guard who took Vance’s money. Make sure he never speaks again.”
I sat in the back of the central armored SUV, holding Emma close. I had changed into a simple black cashmere sweater and dark trousers from the wardrobe racks Damiano had brought. I felt different—no longer the invisible waitress who slipped through the shadows of high-society parties, but a woman standing at the eye of a lethal hurricane.
Damiano slid into the leather seat beside me. The vehicle pulled out into the rainy New York night, flanked by armed escorts ahead and behind.
The drive north was silent for the first hour. The city lights faded into the dark, towering pine forests of the Hudson Valley. Emma had finally fallen asleep across my lap, her breath small and rhythmically steady.
I looked over at Damiano. His face was pale from blood loss, his jaw tight as he fought off the pain of his shoulder wound.
“Let me look at that,” I whispered softly, pulling a bottle of water and clean gauze from the vehicle’s medical kit.
“Sophia, it’s fine—”
“Sit still, Damiano,” I commanded gently, cutting him off.
He blinked, surprised by the authority in my voice, but he obliged, turning his shoulder toward me. I carefully unbuttoned his shirt, peeling back the stained bandage. The doctor had done a clean job with the stitches, but the skin was inflamed and raw.
I poured clean water over the wound and applied fresh antiseptic salve. My fingertips brushed against his warm, muscular skin, feeling the intricate ink of the dragon tattoo that stretched across his collarbone.
Damiano’s breath hitched. His dark eyes burned into mine, filled with an intensity that made my pulse race.
“You shouldn't be doing this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “You should hate me for bringing this violence into your life.”
“You took a bullet for me, Damiano,” I whispered, wrapping fresh white linen around his shoulder. “You shielded my body with yours without hesitating for a single second.”
“I would take a hundred bullets before I let anyone put a mark on you,” he confessed, his large hand reaching up to gently cup the nape of my neck. His thumb stroked my jawline with breathtaking tenderness. “From the moment I saw you in that hallway—protecting your daughter, standing tall even when you were terrified—I knew I was never letting you go.”
My breath hitched. The air inside the SUV felt suddenly charged with electricity.
“Damiano...” I breathed.
He leaned in slowly, giving me every chance to pull away. But I didn't. I closed my eyes and let my lips meet his.
The kiss was hot, hungry, and deeply possessive—a sudden release of the terrifying tension that had built between us since the moment Emma tugged on his sleeve. He tasted of rich espresso and pure power. His good arm wrapped firmly around my waist, pulling me flush against his side, holding me as if I were the only precious thing left in a burning world.
When he finally pulled back, both of us were breathing heavily. His forehead rested against mine, his dark eyes searching my face with raw vulnerability.
May you like
“When this war is over, Sophia,” he promised softly, “I am going to give you and Emma everything you’ve ever dreamed of. No more hiding. No more fear.”
Before I could answer, the lead SUV ahead of us suddenly exploded in a towering ball of orange fire.
