Chapter eight one

Chapter eight one
Alora’s POV

“It’s not safe to be outside, ma’am,” one of Rafe’s men said, already steering me back toward the entrance.

The men moved with practiced speed, guns cocked, as if war had already found us.

My hands trembled uncontrollably as I hugged myself, trying to hold together what little composure I had left.
Just an hour ago, a bullet had nearly ended me—without warning.

The realization sat heavy in my chest—that dying could be that fast, that quiet. No sign. No last words. One second I was breathing, the next I could’ve been nothing more than a memory everyone spoke about in lowered voices.

I’d always known Rafe’s world was dangerous, but knowing something and feeling it were two very different things. Fear wasn’t abstract anymore. It had weight. It lived in my muscles, in the way my shoulders refused to relax, in how my breath never quite reached my lungs.

And the sickening certainty that someone had been watching me kept my body rigid and my thoughts razor-sharp.

The moment I stepped inside, Macko rushed toward me, his gun already drawn.

“Hun, are you okay?” His eyes scanned me fast. “Did the bullet graze you?”

“I’m fine,” I murmured.

“I’m sorry I left. I shouldn’t have,” he said.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as he finally let go. I’d stepped outside for quiet, hours on a bench, just to breathe but now it felt like chaos had singled me out, every problem clawing its way closer.

“It’s fine. There’s no need to blame yourself,” I said, forcing a smile I barely managed to hold.

“Luka’s doing a sweep. Santino will be here soon,” he informed me, guiding me into the living room.

I nodded.

“We’re going to make sure you’re safe, okay?”

“Thanks,” I said dryly.

My gaze drifted back to my phone.

I checked the screen again, even though I already knew there would be nothing new. No missed calls. No unread messages. The silence felt louder than the gunfire outside.
Rafe was never unreachable—not like this. And that scared me more than the armed men pacing the house. I told myself he was fine, that he’d call soon, that I was overreacting. Still, my fingers curled tighter around the phone, like holding it hard enough might force it to light up.

Then the front door opened.

About ten heavily armed men entered, fanning out and securing the living room.

I scooted closer to Macko. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look surprised.

“What’s going on?” I whispered, already praying this wasn’t an attack.

“They’re here under orders.”

“Whose? Rafe—”

“No. Santino’s. He’s in charge while Rafe’s away.”

“Damn,” I breathed, relief loosening my chest just a little.

“Once they complete a two-hundred-mile radius sweep, things will go back to normal.”

“What?” I frowned.

The deeper I sank into this life, the more I realized how little I actually knew.

“You look like you’ve been through it,” I muttered.

“I’ve seen worse, honey. You’ll get used to it.”he said, his hand resting on his gun.

I rolled my eyes. Me? Used to this? I wasn’t cut out for this life.

Before I could respond, Santino’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“Clear,” he said into his walkie, authority etched into every line of his face.
“Back to your posts.”

The men moved out quickly.

Santino walked over, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “You okay, sis?”

I nodded, running my hands through my hair.

“Macko, have the staff resume their duties. Lockdown’s over.”

“Yes, Capo,” Macko replied, giving me a small smile before leaving.

Silence stretched between us.

“Are you hurt? You look shaken.”

“I’m good,” I said shortly, tightening my grip around my phone to hide the tremor that wouldn’t stop.

“If this is about Rafe—he’s on his way.”

Relief washed over me. I nodded.

He reached into his jacket and extended a gun toward me. “Take this. Just in case.”

“No need. I’ve got mine upstairs.”

He blinked. “Wow. Always ten steps ahead. I wish you were that eager during training.”

“I am,” I said defensively. “And my gun’s legal. I signed the papers today.”

“What? Legal?”

“That’s what Rafe said,” I replied. “So no one dares question it.”

Santino studied me, surprise flickering across his face before something unreadable settled in.

“If that’s what he said, I won’t add anything.”

That answer unsettled me more than it reassured me. Santino wasn’t the type to stay quiet when something didn’t sit right with him. If anything, he thrived on correcting people—especially me.

His restraint told me there were rules in this world I hadn’t learned yet, lines I didn’t even know I was crossing. And somehow, Rafe had placed me right in the middle of them without explaining why.

“I’m heading upstairs. I need to rest,” I said.

He nodded.

The idea of my room felt distant, almost imaginary. All I wanted was to close a door behind me and pretend this day hadn’t happened. My body ached with an exhaustion that sleep wouldn’t fix.
I wondered how long it would take before this stopped feeling foreign—before fear became routine, before I stopped flinching at every sound. The thought scared me more than the danger itself. I didn’t want to survive this life by going numb.

I turned toward the stairs, my foot barely touching the first step when...

A loud crash thundered from outside.

The room snapped back to life. Guns were up in seconds. Santino was already moving, his body angled toward the door.

I didn’t scream.
My strength simply gave out.

I sank onto the steps, pressing a hand to my chest as my breath fractured and my heart slammed hard enough to ache.

“Stay back,” Santino ordered.

The door swung open.

Luka stepped inside, hands raised. “It’s just me.”

The tension eased around the room—but my body didn’t get the memo.

I stayed there on the stairs, clutching my chest, forcing my body to remember how to breathe.

“Rafe,” I cried, the name leaving my mouth before my mind could stop it.