Chapter 7 The Blood on the Rose
The sun hadn’t even entirely cleared the horizon when the Moretti estate felt different. There was a stillness in the air that made the hair on the back of Lisa’s neck stand up. Usually, the morning was filled with the distant sounds of gardeners or the clinking of breakfast porcelain. Today, it was silent, the kind of silence that precedes a storm.
Lisa stood by the tall windows of the library, her hand resting instinctively over her belly. The doctor was supposed to arrive in an hour, and her stomach was already doing somersaults from nerves. She kept thinking about the night before, the way Silvio’s hand had felt against her skin and the terrifying softness in his eyes. She was supposed to hate him, yet she found herself watching the door, waiting for him to walk through it.
"You look like you're waiting for a ghost," a voice rumbled.
Lisa turned to see Silvio entering. He looked impeccable in a charcoal suit, but he was checking the clip of a handgun before tucking it into his holster. The sight was a cold reminder of exactly who he was. He wasn't just a man who tucked her into bed; he was a king in a world built on corpses.
"I’m just restless," Lisa said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Silvio walked toward her, his eyes scanning her face. "The doctor will be here soon. Don't look so frightened. If he finds so much as a scratch on you, I’ll have his hands."
"It’s not the doctor I’m worried about," she whispered.
Before he could respond, the silence was shattered. A muffled thud echoed from the gardens, followed by the frantic barking of the security dogs that suddenly cut into a whimpering silence. Silvio’s entire posture changed in a heartbeat. He didn't think; he moved. In one swift motion, he grabbed Lisa’s arm and yanked her away from the window just as a bullet shattered the glass.
The explosion of shards rained down like lethal diamonds. Lisa screamed, ducking her head as Silvio threw his body over hers, pinning her against the mahogany bookshelves.
"Stay down! Don’t you dare move!" he roared over the sound of more gunfire.
"What's happening?" Lisa gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Your father," Silvio spat, his voice thick with a dark, boiling rage. "The bastard didn't send a rescue party. He sent cleaners."
Lisa felt the blood drain from her face. Her biological father, the man she had spent her whole life wondering about, wasn't coming to save his long-lost daughter. He was trying to erase her so Silvio couldn't use her as leverage. She wasn't a person to him; she was a loose end.
The heavy oak doors of the library burst open. Two men in tactical gear charged in, rifles levelled. Silvio didn't hesitate. He pushed Lisa behind a heavy marble desk and spun around, his own gun barking three times. The precision was terrifying. One man went down instantly; the other dove for cover behind a sofa, returning fire.
"Silvio, look out!" Lisa shrieked.
A third assassin appeared on the balcony above, aiming directly at the back of Lisa’s head. She was trapped, paralysed by the sight of the red laser dot dancing on the floor near her feet.
Silvio looked up. He saw the threat. He had a choice: he could take cover and save himself, or he could expose himself to the shooter on the floor to reach her. He didn't even blink. He lunged across the open space, his coat billowing like a dark cape.
A sickening wet sound filled the room, the sound of a bullet finding a home in flesh.
Silvio grunted, his body jolting, but he didn't stop. He tackled Lisa to the floor, shielding her with his entire mass just as he fired a final, killing shot at the man on the balcony.
The room fell into a ringing, heavy silence, broken only by the sound of Lisa’s jagged breathing.
"Silvio?" she whispered, her hands shaking as she reached out to him.
He was heavy on top of her, his head resting in the crook of her neck. When she pulled her hand back, it was slick and red. The copper smell of blood filled her senses, and she felt a wave of pure, unadulterated terror, not for herself, but for him.
"Silvio! Stay with me!" She struggled to sit up, propping his head against her lap.
The bullet had hit him in the shoulder, near the collarbone. Blood was soaking through his expensive shirt, turning the grey fabric a deep, gruesome crimson. His face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead, but his eyes were wide and burning with a fierce, possessive light.
He reached up, his fingers stained red, and gripped her chin. His touch was trembling, but his strength was still there, underlying the pain.
"Listen to me," he wheezed, blood flecking his teeth. "You don't die today. Do you hear me?"
"You saved me," she sobbed, tears blurring her vision. "Why would you do that? You said I was just property."
Silvio let out a harsh, pained laugh that turned into a cough. He leaned in, his forehead dropping against hers, his blood smearing onto her skin. The proximity was overwhelming, the scent of gunpowder, sweat, and the raw, metallic tang of life escaping him.
"You are my property," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through her chest. "And nobody nobody gets to destroy what belongs to me. You’re mine to kill, Lisa. You’re mine to break. Nobody else's."
Even in his agony, his possessiveness was a physical force. He looked at her then, not as a captive, but with a raw hunger that made her heart ache. In that moment, the line between hate and something much more dangerous blurred into nothingness. She didn't see a mob boss. She saw a man who had walked into the line of fire for her.
Outside, the shouting of his men and the sirens of the estate's private security team grew louder. The threat was over for now, but the real war had just begun.
"Don't you dare close your eyes, Silvio Moretti," Lisa commanded, her voice gaining a strength she didn't know she possessed. She ripped a strip of fabric from her dress and pressed it hard against his wound.
He hissed in pain, his eyes snapping to hers. For a second, his gaze dropped to her stomach, then back to her face. A shadow of suspicion crossed his features, but it was drowned out by the sheer exhaustion of blood loss.
"I’m not going anywhere, little bird," he whispered, his hand falling from her face to grip her wrist. "We aren't finished yet."
As the security team burst into the room, Lisa held him tight, her heart screaming a truth she wasn't ready to admit: she couldn't let him die, not because of the baby, and not because of the contract.
She needed him. The monster had become her only sanctuary.