THE BLOOD OF THE ROSSI EMPIRE

For three days, the cabin became our entire universe. Outside, a massive storm raged, cutting us off from the city, but inside, a strange, fragile peace blossomed. I fed Leo around the clock, watching in awe as color returned to his pale cheeks. He was gaining strength, his cries transforming from weak whimpers into demanding, healthy shouts.

Lorenzo and I were forced into an intimate, domestic routine that felt surreal given the circumstances. The most feared man in the state was heating up canned soup over a wood stove, while I, a destitute maid, sat wrapped in his oversized flannel shirt, nursing his heir.

"You look beautiful like that," Lorenzo said suddenly on the third night, his dark eyes catching the firelight as he watched me rock Leo to sleep.

I blushed, looking down at my bare feet. "I'm a mess. I haven't slept, I have nothing to my name, and I'm being hunted."

"You are a mother," Lorenzo corrected, walking over and kneeling before the chair. He reached out, gently cupping my cheek. The roughness of his knuckles against my skin sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "You are fierce. You risked your life for a baby you didn't know. You are the strongest woman I have ever met."

When he leaned in and pressed his lips to my forehead, my breath caught. It wasn't a kiss of lust; it was a promise. A binding contract of protection and reverence. For the first time since I lost Lily, the ice around my heart began to thaw. I felt safe. I felt seen.

But the illusion of safety shattered the next morning. Lorenzo was scanning a burner phone he kept for emergencies. His face drained of color.