They took my baby!

They took my baby!
Isla’s POV

The line died with a cold, final click that echoed in my ears like a gunshot in an empty room. My hand trembled, the phone slipping from my fingers and clattering onto the wooden floor of the safehouse, the screen lighting up with the incoming video notification. I stared at it, frozen, my breath caught in my throat, a vise squeezing my chest. Angelo's eyes met mine from the couch, his expression shifting from exhaustion to alarm as he saw the terror on my face.

"Isla? What is it?" he demanded, his voice rough but urgent, pushing himself up despite the pain that contorted his features. His hand reached for me, but I was already bending down, my fingers numb as I snatched the phone back up. The video had auto-downloaded, a thumbnail frozen on a frame that made my stomach churn: Angelo, strapped to that cursed chair, his face twisted in agony.

"It's her," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "The Woman. She... she sent this."

Sofia, who had been in the adjacent room murmuring into her burner phone, froze mid-step as she re-entered, her eyes narrowing. "Don't play it. It's a mind game—"

But I couldn't stop myself. My thumb hovered, then pressed play. The video started with a shaky cam, the cell's dim light casting harsh shadows. Angelo was there, bound and battered, electrodes attached to his chest, wires snaking to a device in the Woman's gloved hand. Her voice, that sickening purr, narrated off-screen: "Scream for her, Angelo. Let Isla hear what her stubbornness costs."

Then the current hit. Angelo's body arched, a raw, guttural scream tearing from his throat—"Isla! Luca! No—stay away from them!"—his muscles convulsing, veins bulging in his neck, sweat and blood mixing as he thrashed against the restraints. The scream morphed into my name, repeated like a plea, a broken mantra: "Isla... Isla... don't let them win..."

I dropped the phone again, a sob ripping from my chest, hot tears streaming down my face as I collapsed to my knees. The room spun, the musty air closing in, suffocating. "Oh God, Angelo... what did they do? How could they..." My hands shook violently, the horror of it crashing over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in guilt and rage. If we'd gotten there sooner, if I'd fought harder...

Angelo was off the couch in an instant, ignoring his wounds, dropping to the floor beside me and pulling me into his arms. His embrace was fierce, protective, even as his body trembled with the effort. "Shh, amore, don't look. It's over. I'm here." His voice was a low rumble against my ear, his hand stroking my hair, but I could feel the tension in him, the way his breath hitched—not just from pain, but from the memory. "They wanted to break us. Don't let them."

"But you... screaming like that..." I clung to him, my fingers digging into his shirt, feeling the bandages beneath, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the cold dread in my veins. "I can't unsee it. I can't unhear it. They hurt you because of me—because I ran, because I—"

"No," he cut in firmly, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze, his one good eye burning with intensity. "You saved me. You fought through hell to get to me. That video? It's their weapon, but it doesn't change us." He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath warm and steady. "We're stronger than their games."

Sofia scooped up the phone, her face a mask of controlled fury as she paused the video. "She's playing psychological warfare. Sending this now? It's to unsettle you, make you impulsive. But we use it—trace the signal if we can." She glanced at Angelo. "What else did she say on the call?"

I swallowed hard, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "Bring Luca to the docks at dawn, or... or watch Angelo die slowly. More videos coming." As if on cue, another ping— but I didn't look. Couldn't.

Angelo's jaw clenched, a low growl escaping him. "Over my dead body. They touch Luca, and I'll—"

The door burst open, Marco staggering in, rifle in hand, his shoulder bandage fresh but already spotting with blood. "We got problems. Perimeter sensors tripped—shadows moving in the trees. Not locals. Armed. They're here."

Drama ignited like gasoline on fire. Sofia whirled, gun drawn. "How many?"

"At least six," Marco said, wincing as he reloaded. "Could be more. They cut the power lines—lights out in thirty seconds."

Angelo pushed to his feet, swaying but steadying himself against the wall, grabbing a pistol from the table. "Defensive positions. Isla, stay behind me—"

"No," I snapped, my voice steady now, the video's horror fueling a resolve that burned away the tears. "I'm not hiding. Give me a gun. We end this together."

He hesitated, pride and fear warring in his eyes, then nodded, handing me a loaded Beretta. "Stay close. I can't lose you too."

The lights flickered, then died, plunging the cabin into darkness broken only by moonlight filtering through the windows. Gunshots shattered the night—bullets punching through wood, glass exploding inward like deadly rain. "They're here!" Marco yelled, diving behind the couch and returning fire through a shattered pane. "Two at the front—flanking!"

Sofia kicked over the table for cover, her shots precise, dropping one attacker with a headshot that echoed like thunder. "Back door—three more! Marco, cover the window!"

I crouched beside Angelo, my heart pounding as I fired into the shadows, the recoil jolting my arms. An attacker breached the door, silhouette dark against the night, raising his rifle. "Surrender Romano, or the woman dies first!"

Angelo surged forward, tackling him with a roar, his fists pummeling despite his injuries. "You won't touch her!" They rolled, grunting, the gun skittering across the floor. I aimed, but they were too tangled—then Sofia fired, the attacker slumping lifeless.

But more came, relentless. A bullet grazed Sofia's side, blood blooming dark on her shirt. She gasped, clutching the wound, but kept fighting. "Angelo—behind you!"

Another assailant lunged, knife flashing. Angelo twisted, but he was slow—too slow from the pain. The blade sliced his arm, fresh blood welling. "Bastard!" he snarled, headbutting the man, who staggered back.

Marco took a second hit, this time to the leg, collapsing with a curse. "I'm down—cover!"

Panic surged— we were outnumbered, the cabin a deathtrap. "We can't hold them!" I shouted, firing wildly, my ears ringing from the gunshots.

Sofia, bleeding heavily, grabbed Angelo's arm amid the chaos. "The mole... it's me. But I'm double-crossing them. For you. For all of this."

Twist upon twist. Angelo whirled, gun raised, eyes wide with betrayal and confusion, the room lit by muzzle flashes. "Why? After all this time? You show up now, help us, and this? Explain—now!"

"Because I never stopped loving you," she confessed, bleeding on the floor, tears mixing with blood as bullets whizzed overhead, splintering wood. "But Maria... your first love... and then Luca... it was too late for us. I thought infiltrating the Outsiders would give me power, revenge for what they took from me—my own family, years ago. But seeing you tonight, seeing her fight for your son... I couldn't let them win. I fed them lies, led them here to trap them, not you. Forgive me, Angelo. Please. I did it for you."

Emotional storm—Angelo lowered his gun, forgiveness flickering in his eyes amid the chaos, a complex mix of old love and new pain. "You should have told me," he said, voice thick with emotion, pulling her up as another wave of attackers breached. "But... thank you. Now fight. We end this together."

War raged on—bullets flying, shouts and grunts filling the air. Sofia, wounded but fierce, revealed a hidden explosive from her bag, tossing it through the window. "Cover!" The blast shook the cabin, screams cutting short as attackers were thrown back.

We repelled them, bodies piling up outside, the air thick with smoke and cordite, the attackers' shouts turning to desperate retreats as our counterassault broke their line. Wounded but victorious, we escaped into the dawn, piling into the SUV, racing to Luca's location at the lake cabin, my mind a whirlwind of fear and determination.

Arriving, we found Vito dead, his body slumped against the door, a bullet in his chest, his loyal eyes staring blankly, hand still clutching his gun in a final act of defense. But Luca—my baby—was gone, his crib empty, a single toy left on the floor, the stuffed bear he'd loved, now silent witness to horror.

Screaming, I collapsed to my knees, the world blurring through tears, my hands clawing at the empty sheets. "No! Luca! Where is he? They took him—they took my baby!"

Angelo knelt beside me, pulling me into his arms, his own voice breaking. "We'll find him. He's alive—I know it."