Page 143 of The Underboss's Secret Twins

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The second the headlights cut out, the car becomes a shadow. A whisper against the night.

We coast silently behind a row of dumpsters, engine low, holding our breath.

Seconds stretch like an eternity.

Then—the Lombardi SUVs roar past the alley, engines snarling as they charge ahead, blind to our hiding spot.

Valentina exhales sharply. "Jesus."

I don’t let myself relax. "We need to move. They’ll double back."

Valentina throws the car into gear. "Hold on."

We take off, cutting through the side streets, heading straight for the villa.

I can see the smoke before we even reach the gates.

The distantpop-pop-popof gunfire shatters the night.

The battle has already begun.

I shove the door open the second we skid to a stop, my boots hitting the gravel with a sharp crunch. Valentina grabs my wrist, her grip firm.

"Sofia," she warns. "Think about what you're doing."

"I have to go."

I see the conflict in her eyes, the fight between fear and understanding. Then, she nods once.

"Go."

I sprint toward the side entrance, my breath coming in sharp gasps.

Marco is inside.

The Lombardis are inside.

And the whole damn place is rigged to explode.

The side door is ajar, splintered at the edges, as if someone forced their way in. The air is thick with smoke, the acrid scent of gunpowder and something burning clinging to the walls.

Gunfire rattles through the corridors.

I move cautiously, pressing against the cold stone as I navigate the darkened halls. The villa is a maze, grand and sprawling, but I memorized the layout from Marco’s briefings. I know where he’d go—where the fight would be thickest.

But I also know I’m not the only one hunting in this house.

A voice echoes somewhere ahead—low, cruel.

I freeze.

The hallway ahead flickers with the dim glow of firelight, shadows stretching along the marble floor.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Someone is searching.

Not just for Marco.

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