Page 142 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
I know what I’m walking into. I know the risk.
But the fear that’s been clawing at my insides all day is nothing compared to the thought of Marco dying in that explosion.
I won’t let it happen.
Ican’t.
Even if it means running straight into the fire.
I grip the edges of my seat as Valentina speeds through the narrow streets of Nuova Speranza, weaving between cars with a reckless determination that matches the storm inside my chest. The city rushes past in a blur of neon lights and darkened alleyways, the distant sounds of sirens wailing in the background. The streets are slick from an earlier rain, the glistening pavement reflecting the headlights as we tear toward the villa.
I don’t know if Marco has received my message. I don’t know if he’s realized the trap he’s walked into. But Idoknow that if I don’t reach him in time, I might never see him again.
My heart slams against my ribs as I clutch my phone in my lap, watching the tracking feed update Marco’s last known position inside the villa.
Almost there.
And then?—
The glare of headlights flares in the rearview mirror.
Valentina swears under her breath.
I twist in my seat, my stomach plunging as a sleek black SUV barrels toward us, closing the distance too fast.
"Lombardis," Valentina grits out.
Panic tightens its grip around my throat.
"They're afterme," I realize.
"They know exactly who you are," she snaps. "And they sure as hell aren’t here to offer you a ride."
The SUV jerks forward, a predatory movement, headlights flashing in an eerie pulse. They’re herding us, trying to box us in.
Valentina slams the gas pedal to the floor.
The engine roars as we lurch forward, tires screeching against the wet pavement. We weave between traffic, the Lombardi car tailing us relentlessly. A second vehicle appears at the end of the block, swerving to cut us off.
"We need to lose them!" I say, pulse hammering.
"I'm trying," Valentina growls, yanking the wheel hard to the left.
The SUV fishtails, barely missing a parked car before rocketing down a side street. But the Lombardis keep coming.
I scan the roads ahead, my mind racing. I know these streets. I grew up in this city.
"Take the next right!" I shout.
Valentina doesn’t hesitate. She whips the car around the corner, sending us flying onto a narrow backstreet lined with abandoned warehouses.
"Now left!"
She obeys, the tires skidding as she veers onto an even tighter road. The Lombardis hesitate at the intersection, losing precious seconds as they try to guess our route.
"One more turn," I say, gripping the dashboard. "Then kill the lights."
Valentina accelerates, swerving down a narrow alleyway barely wide enough for our SUV. Then—darkness.
