Page 101 of Forbidden Vengeance

“One last chance,” I murmur through our private channel. “We can still get you out.”

Elena’s laugh carries pure ice as she turns to greet Anthony, now effectively cornered near the service entrance. “Not a chance. Let him learn what happens when you underestimate a pregnant woman.”

The next few minutes unfold with excruciating tension. From my position behind a marble column, I watch Anthony approach Elena, all polished charm on the surface. But I see the predator beneath, the way his eyes track her every movement like a hunter closing in on prey.

“Elena.” His voice carries across the marble floor. “You’re looking radiant. Motherhood suits you.”

“Anthony.” Her smile is warm but her eyes are cold. “How unexpected to see you here. I wouldn’t have thought children’s causes interested you.”

His answering laugh holds no warmth. “Oh, I’mveryinterested in children’s causes. In family. In making sure the next generation knows proper values.”

I catch the subtle signal between his men—the way they shift closer, cutting off escape routes.

“Boss,” Dante’s voice is urgent in my ear. “New players just entered through the kitchen. At least six more. These aren’t his regular crew—they’re specialists.”

The realization hits as I see their formation. These aren’t just extraction specialists—they’re the kind of professionals whohandle “complicated” pregnancies. Who ensure babies are born exactly where and how their employers want.

“Whatever you’re planning,” Elena tells Anthony, her voice carrying a deadly softness that makes the hairs at the back of my neck rise, “you should know—I’m not the society planner you tried to control anymore.”

Anthony’s smile is pure Calabrese arrogance—all perfect white teeth and dead eyes, like a shark scenting blood. The same smile Johnny wore before destroying things he considered his property. Triumphant. Mocking. Sure of his victory.

“No? Then what are you,cara?” He moves closer, that movement making my fingers twitch. “Besides the mother of my heir?”

“I’m the woman who’s about to teach you why you never underestimate a pregnant DeLuca.”

The words hang in the air like a prophecy, like a promise of blood to come. Because that’s what she is now—not just Elena Santiago, not just the society planner everyone overlooked. She’s become something more dangerous. Something worth fighting for. Worth dying for.

My hand tightens on my weapon as I watch Anthony process her words. The way his smile freezes, then cracks around the edges as understanding dawns.

Because Elena isn’t just carrying his child. She’s carrying our future. Our revolution. Everything the old guard fears about the next generation.

And Anthony’s about to learn exactly what that means.

34

ELENA

I’ve experienced bad timing before. Like getting my first period during a middle school dance. Or my heel breaking as I ran for a taxi in the rain.

But going into labor in the middle of a standoff with Anthony Calabrese? That’s a special kind of terrible timing.

The first contraction hits as I’m telling Anthony I’m a DeLuca—a sharp, twisting pain that steals my breath. I maintain my composure through sheer will, not letting him see how my insides are trying to turn into outsides. Years of maintaining perfect poise while gathering intelligence finally serve a real purpose.

Another contraction rolls through me as Anthony’s men tighten their formation. This one’s stronger, making me grateful for the marble column at my back. The pain radiates from my spine around to my belly, lasting longer than it should.

This isn’t the mild cramping I’ve had for days. This is the real thing.Fuck.

I catch Mario’s eye across the room, seeing the moment he realizes something’s wrong. The slight shift in his stance, theway his hand tightens on his concealed weapon. But I give him the smallest shake of my head. Not yet. We stick to the plan.

Even if our daughter has apparently decided to make her entrance at the worst possible moment.

Through the growing waves of pain, I maintain my smile. Keep playing the perfect society planner while Anthony gloats, while his men move into position, while my body prepares to bring new life at the worst fucking time.

Stella kicks hard, as if apologizing for her timing. Or maybe she’s just her father’s daughter—always ready for a fight.

Through my earpiece, I hear Dante’s urgent warning: “Teams two and four compromised. They’ve got our people in the kitchen. These aren’t regular soldiers—they’re medical extraction specialists.”

Another contraction rips through me, more violent than the last. Warm liquid trickles down my legs, soaking into my Valentino, and I fight back a wave of pure panic. Not now. Please, not now. The timing couldn’t be worse—surrounded by Anthony’s men, our backup compromised, my carefully planned revolution threatening to dissolve into chaos.

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