Chapter 67 POV LILIANNA
Chapter 67 POV LILIANNA
The first warning came quietly.
Too quietly.
Callum was laughing in the garden when it happened—chasing one of the estate dogs through the olive trees, his laughter bright and unguarded, the sound cutting straight through the tension that never quite left my chest anymore.
I was watching from the terrace, coffee cooling forgotten in my hands, when Matteo stiffened beside me.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
But his entire body went alert in that way I’d learned to recognize—predator awareness snapping into place.
“What is it?” I asked.
He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes tracked something invisible to me, gaze sliding along the perimeter fence, the trees beyond it, the distant road.
Then his hand lifted.
Two fingers.
A sharp signal.
The guards reacted instantly.
Men appeared from nowhere, weapons lowered but ready, positions tightening around Callum like a closing circle. The dog was scooped up. Callum was lifted—confused, protesting softly—and carried inside without panic, without explanation.
Too smooth.
Too practiced.
My heart started to pound.
“What happened?” I demanded, turning to Matteo.
He finally looked at me.
“There was a drone,” he said calmly.
The word slammed into me.
“A what?”
“Commercial grade,” he continued, already walking. “Modified camera. Silent rotors.”
I followed, fear tightening my throat. “Was it armed?”
“No,” he said. “This time.”
This time.
Callum was already inside, Louis kneeling in front of him, murmuring something reassuring. My son’s eyes were wide but dry—brave, too brave for someone his age.
I dropped to my knees and pulled him into my arms.
“You okay, baby?” I asked softly, scanning him for injuries.
He nodded. “The man picked me up fast.”
I kissed his hair, holding him too tightly.
Matteo crouched in front of us.
“Did you see anything, Callum?” he asked gently.
Callum hesitated. “The sky bug.”
My breath hitched.
“What color?” Matteo pressed, voice calm, controlled.
“Black,” Callum said. “It had a red light.”
Matteo stood slowly.
Red light.
I knew enough now to understand what that meant.
Someone wasn’t just watching.
They were marking.
The meeting that followed wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
The war room was sealed, soundproofed, every screen active. Satellite feeds. Traffic cams. Internal security maps.
Matteo stood at the head of the table again—but something was different.
This wasn’t about power.
This was about blood.
“They’re testing response time,” Dante said grimly. “Seeing how fast we lock down.”
“And now they know,” Louis added. “Six seconds.”
Too fast for civilians.
Barely acceptable for professionals.
Matteo’s jaw flexed.
“Who?” I asked.
Silence.
That was worse than an answer.
“Say it,” I said, voice sharp.
Louis exhaled. “It’s not a family.”
My chest tightened.
“It’s a contractor network,” Dante continued. “Private. Modular. They sell surveillance, abduction logistics, deniability.”
Kidnappers.
Mercenaries.
People who didn’t care whose child they took—as long as someone paid.
“And someone paid,” I said.
“Yes,” Matteo confirmed. “Recently.”
“Who?” I asked again.
Matteo didn’t answer immediately.
Because this time—
He didn’t know.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Callum was in bed between Matteo and me, one small hand curled into my shirt, the other gripping Matteo’s finger like an anchor.
I watched his chest rise and fall, my mind replaying every moment of the day.
The drone.
The red light.
The speed.
“You should rest,” Matteo murmured quietly, sensing my tension even in the dark.
“I can’t,” I whispered back.
He turned slightly, propping himself on one elbow. “They won’t touch him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he said firmly. “Because if they try—”
“You’ll burn the world,” I finished.
“Yes.”
I swallowed hard.
“I won’t survive losing him,” I said honestly.
Matteo’s hand came to my jaw, forcing me to look at him.
“You won’t,” he said. “Because it won’t happen.”
I wanted to believe him.
I needed to.
But belief was a fragile thing in our world.
The second warning came twenty-four hours later.
This one wasn’t quiet.
The convoy exploded two blocks from the villa.
Not ours.
A decoy.
Matteo’s.
The blast rattled windows, sent birds screaming into the sky. I was already moving before the echo faded, Callum scooped into my arms as guards rushed in.
“Downstairs,” Matteo ordered.
We moved fast.
Too fast.
Because this time, the message wasn’t subtle.
It was written in fire.
By the time the smoke cleared, a symbol had been spray-painted across the wreckage.
A black circle.
Three slashes through the center.
Dante stared at it, face hard.
“Black Meridian,” he said.
I looked at Matteo. “Who?”
His eyes darkened.
“Ghost handlers,” he said. “They don’t miss.”
My blood went cold.
By nightfall, we had confirmation.
An encrypted message came through one of Matteo’s old syndicate channels—one he hadn’t used in years.
It wasn’t a demand.
It was a statement.
YOU BUILT A KINGDOM.
WE WANT THE HEIR.
I couldn’t breathe.
Matteo crushed the phone in his hand.
“They’re not negotiating,” Louis said quietly. “They’re announcing intent.”
Callum shifted beside me, sensing the tension.
I hugged him tighter.
“No,” I said, voice shaking but strong. “We’re not waiting for them to move.”
Matteo turned to me sharply. “Lilianna—”
“No,” I repeated. “They won’t take him. Not from his home. Not from his bed.”
Silence fell.
Then Dante spoke.
“She’s right.”
Louis frowned. “We don’t even know where Meridian is operating from.”
I lifted my chin.
“I do.”
All eyes turned to me.
“My father,” I said slowly, “tracked them once. Years ago. They tried to buy his routes. He refused.”
Matteo’s gaze sharpened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t think they were still active,” I said. “I was wrong.”
“Where?” Matteo asked.
I swallowed.
“Malta,” I said. “Underground ports. No jurisdiction. No mercy.”
The room went very still.
Malta wasn’t just dangerous.
It was lawless.
That night, Matteo made the decision.
“We disappear,” he said.
I stared at him. “What?”
“For now,” he clarified. “We move Callum off-grid. No records. No patterns.”
“And you?” I asked.
“I stay visible,” he said. “They’ll focus on me.”
I shook my head violently. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s the only way,” he insisted.
“No,” I snapped. “We don’t split up.”
Matteo stepped closer, gripping my shoulders.
“Listen to me,” he said fiercely. “They want leverage. If they can’t get it from Callum—”
“They’ll take it from me,” I finished.
“Yes.”
I held his gaze.
“Then we stay together,” I said. “Or not at all.”
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
He nodded.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “Together.”
I exhaled shakily.
We left Rome before dawn.
No convoy.
No lights.
Just one armored vehicle, unmarked, slipping into the dark.
Callum slept in the backseat, curled between us, unaware that the world had just shifted under his feet.
As the city disappeared behind us, Matteo’s phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
A new message.
Unknown sender.
A single line.
RUNNING MAKES IT MORE FUN.
My stomach dropped.
Matteo crushed the phone again.
“They know,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said grimly.
“Then what now?”
He looked at me.
Eyes burning.
“Now,” he said, “we stop running.”
And somewhere in the dark—
I knew this wasn’t just another war.
It was the one that would decide whether our family survived at all.