THE BLOOD OF THE ROSSI EMPIRE

There was no time to run. The heavy roar of engines tore through the serene morning air, echoing off the mountainside. Lorenzo shoved a loaded shotgun into my hands, his eyes blazing with tactical urgency.

"Take Leo into the reinforced panic room under the floorboards," Lorenzo commanded, pulling assault rifles from a hidden weapons cache in the wall. "Lock the hatch from the inside. Do not open it unless you hear my voice."

"Lorenzo, there are too many of them!" I cried, peering through a crack in the blinds. I could see at least a dozen heavily armed men piling out of black SUVs. Leading them was Dante, smoking a cigar, and beside him, pacing like a rabid dog, was Damon.

"Let them come," Lorenzo growled, a terrifying, predatory smile spreading across his face. "I am a Rossi. We do not die easily."

I climbed down into the dark, cramped bunker beneath the floor, clutching Leo so tightly to my chest that I could feel his heartbeat syncing with mine. I pulled the heavy steel hatch shut and locked it just as the first barrage of bullets ripped through the cabin above.

The noise was apocalyptic. Explosions shook the dirt around me, and the rapid-fire staccato of automatic weapons vibrated in my teeth. I sat in the pitch black, rocking Leo, whispering prayers into the dark. I listened to the heavy thud of bodies hitting the floor above. Lorenzo was fighting like a demon, defending his son. Defending me.

Then, abruptly, the gunfire stopped.

Footsteps approached the hatch. Slow. Heavy.

"Lorenzo?" I whispered, my finger trembling on the trigger of the shotgun.

"Well, well, well," a cruel, familiar voice mocked from above. "The little maid found herself a rich protector. Unlock the door, Maya. Or I burn the cabin down with you inside it."