Page 47 of Forbidden Vengeance

I turn back to Elena, expecting fear, maybe panic. Instead, she watches with cool calculation, those blue eyes taking in every detail. She’s not the same woman who trembled when Johnny Calabrese held her hostage. That Elena would have frozen.

This one’s probably already counting exits and cataloging weapons.

“Here’s how this plays,” I explain, checking my magazine. “My team’s setting up a kill box in the parking garage. We’ll use the service elevator—they’ll be watching the main ones. Car’s waiting in the underground tunnel that connects to the building next door.”

“And the sniper?” she asks.

Fuck, I love that she caught that detail. “He’s about to have a very bad day. But it’s going to get messy. People will die.” I meet her eyes. “Once we leave here together, there’s no going back. Anthony will know you’re with me. Word will reach Matteo within hours.”

She hesitates, one hand drifting to her stomach. For a moment, I think she’ll choose the safer path—return to Anthony, play the dutiful mistress. But then her lips curve into that smile that drives me crazy.

“Please,” she scoffs. “Like I didn’t burn that bridge the moment I let you fuck me in Anthony’s study.”

My heart definitely doesn’t skip at her casual claim of choosing me. My phone buzzes:In position. Awaiting signal.

“Ready?” I ask, offering her my spare Glock.

Those blue eyes meet mine, sharp as blades. “Ready.”

I give the signal and all hell breaks loose.

My security team creates the perfect distraction—an explosion in the east wing that has Calabrese’s men spinning toward the noise. The sniper’s attention diverts just long enough for my counter-sniper to take him out. Clean shot, straight through the scope. Glass shatters somewhere in the distance.

“Move,” I order, keeping Elena close as we head for the service elevator. Two of Calabrese’s men appear at the end of the hall—both drop before they can raise their weapons, my shots perfect between their eyes. The muscle memory Giuseppe beat into me serving its purpose.

Elena doesn’t flinch at the blood spray. She flows through the space beside me, that Glock held with surprising steadiness in her perfectly manicured hands. When another of Anthony’s men bursts through a side door, she puts two in his chest without hesitation.

The blood splatter across her face doesn’t even make her blink.

“Behind!” she calls, and I spin, taking out the man trying to flank us. But something catches my attention—he was aiming for my legs, not center mass. The same with the others.

They’re shooting to disable, not kill.

We reach the service elevator just as Dante’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Boss, they’re trying to funnel you toward the garage.”

The pieces click together as we descend. I watch two more of Anthony’s men attempt to grab Elena rather than shoot her. They’re not here to kill us—they’re here to separate us. To take her.

Rage pours through me, hot and familiar. Nobody is taking what’s mine.

The elevator opens to chaos. My men have created the kill box as planned, but Calabrese’s team is more focused onreaching Elena than engaging them. One manages to get close enough to grab her arm—I remove his hand at the wrist with my ceramic blade.

“Change of plans,” I growl into my comm. “They’re after her. Formation Echo.”

My team shifts instantly, creating a tighter circle around Elena as we move toward the tunnel. She proves herself again, shooting a man trying to breach our perimeter. But they keep coming, more focused on grabbing her than stopping me.

“Mario!” Her warning comes just as someone manages to get an arm around her waist. I don’t even think—my knife finds his throat before he can pull her away. The sight of another man’s hands on her makes something feral rise in my chest.

We’re almost to the tunnel when I hear it—the distinctive three-tone radio signal that’s been Matteo’s security signature since we were kids. I’d know that sound anywhere—used to use it myself.

Fucking Antonio must have called him. That fucking man has eyes everywhere.

Fucking perfect.

“Run,” I tell Elena, already formulating my next move. “Car’s through the tunnel, second left. Go!”

Her blue eyes widen in shock. “I’m not leaving you?—”

“Trust me,” I growl, pushing her toward one of my men. “I’ll be right behind you.”

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