Page 72 of High Stakes

“Well, Milo and I are supposed to finish up here soon and we'll be home to help,” he says, his tone softening. “We are bringing you home a surprise.”

“What sort of surprise?” I ask.

“How's my little firefly,” I hear my father’s voice and I gasp.

“Damn it Nathan, you ruined it.”

“She hates surprises,” I hear my father say and I laugh.

“Dad?” I chuckle when I hear a noise outside, Rocco coming into the room glances at the window and moves toward it.

“Right here, I'll be bringing Emma with me.” I can't help but grin hearing that. I haven't seen her since the hospital, though Leone has allowed me a phone so I speak to her almostevery day. Rocco steps out onto the balcony and I watch him disappear.

But before I can reply to my father, another noise catches my attention, a loud bang that makes me jump along with Maria's scream downstairs. My head snaps toward the bedroom door, my pulse quickening and Rocco rushes inside.

“Fallon?” Leone’s voice sharpens instantly, every trace of humor gone. “What’s wrong? What was that bang?”

“It sounded like the front door…” I trail off, stepping toward the hallway. “Maria?” I call out. Rocco jerks me back and presses a finger to his lips, slipping out the door.

“Who’s there?” Leone's tone is tense now, clipped.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, trying to peer around the corner without making a sound. “Rocco’s gone to check.” The sound of voices catches my attention as I sneak down the hall. I don’t recognize the words, though I have picked up a bit of Italian hearing it spoken so frequently.

Maria's voice grows louder yelling in Italian. My heart skips a beat, and I instinctively turn toward the stairs, the phone still pressed to my ear.

“Who’s she yelling at?” Leone asks, his tone immediately shifting from joy to concern.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, straining to hear. I can hear Leone’s breathing quicken on the other end of the line and hear my father and Milo in the background. “Fallon, stay on the phone with me. Don’t hang up. They aren’t speaking Italian; it’s not my men.”

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice shaky. I move down the steps and peek around the corner, trying to get a glimpse of who has just entered the house.

“Who the fuck are you?” Rocco’s voice suddenly booms from the front of the house, followed by a string of Italian curses. Myheart lurches, and I grip the phone tighter, dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

“Fallon, who is it? What’s going on?” Leone’s voice is urgent now, bordering on panic.

“I don’t know,” I say, my breath catching in my throat. “I’m going to check, just hold on?—”

But before I can finish my sentence, a gunshot rings out, echoing through the house, sending my stomach plummeting. The sound paralyzes me, fear seizing my entire body. Leone’s frantic voice crackles through the receiver, but I can barely hear him over the pounding of my own heart.

“Fallon! Fallon, get out of there! Run, now!” Leone’s voice is loud and desperate, but I can’t seem to move, my feet rooted to the spot in terror.

Suddenly, the kitchen door bursts open, and two men rush in from behind me. They’re tall and broad-shouldered, with hard faces and cold eyes. The first man has a shaved head and a jagged scar running down the side of his face, while the second has a thick beard and a tattoo snaking up his neck.

They speak rapidly in Russian, their words sharp and menacing.

“?? ??????? ???????, ???????,” (Don’t try to run, little girl) the bearded man growls, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto me. “?? ????????? ??? ????????? ???? ????.” (Don’t make us hurt you.)

Panic surges through me, and I turn to flee, but it’s too late. The man with the scar moves quickly, grabbing me roughly by the arm. He grabs my phone, and smashes it. His grip is like iron, his fingers digging painfully into my skin as he hauls me toward the front door.

“????? ?? ??????, ??? ?? ?????? ???????!” (Hold her tighter, she must not escape!) the scarred man orders, his voice cold and commanding.

The bearded man leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. I thrash trying to escape them, kicking and throwing my body trying to escape their grip.

“?? ???????, ?? ?????? ??????? ?? ????” (You think you can run from us?) he sneers, his grip tightening as I struggle against them. I cry out, fear twisting in my gut as they drag me toward the front of the house. The realization there’s no escape crashes over me, and I can only hope Leone and Milo will get here before it’s too late.

As they drag me through the hallway, Maria is frantically yelling trying to get past the other two men, tears trekking down her face. The moment she sees us, her eyes widen in horror.

“Chi siete? Cosa state facendo?” (Who are you? What are you doing?) she screams, her voice shaking as she rushes toward me.

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