Page 51 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
The Lombardis don’t stop firing.
Bullets chase us down the road, sparking against asphalt, punching into the metal of the SUVs. One of the side mirrors explodes in a rain of glass, but the vehicles keep moving, speeding through the backstreets of Nuova Speranza like hunted prey.
Sofia is curled against me, her breathing shallow, her body tense. I can feel her heartbeat hammering through her ribs, her fingers twitching against her thigh as if she wants to grab a weapon, wants to fight.
She’s been through hell.
But she’s still here.
"You with me, princess?" I ask, my voice low, rough.
Her head tilts slightly, dark eyes blinking up at me. "I’m—" Her voice is raw, breaking. She swallows, nods once. "I’m here."
Damn right she is.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, my fingers grazing her temple, my jaw clenching at the sight of fresh bruises, the faint cut on her lip.
The Lombardis will pay for this.
"Hold on," the driver calls out. "They’re following."
I shift, angling myself to get a look through the shattered rear windshield.
Sure enough—two blacked-out SUVs are in pursuit, gaining on us fast.
My blood turns to ice.
Dante’s voice crackles through the comms. "Tell me we’re not about to get into a fucking high-speed shootout."
"We’re about to get into a fucking high-speed shootout," I mutter, checking my magazine.
Sofia stiffens beside me, her fingers curling into the fabric of my sleeve.
I press a quick kiss to her temple—brief, instinctual, the only reassurance I can offer. Then, I release the safety on my gun.
"You still with me?" I ask again, but this time, it’s not a question about consciousness.
She meets my gaze. Despite everything, despite the fear and exhaustion, her eyes flash with something sharper.
"Yes," she whispers.
And right then, even though things are about to get messier, I smile. "Good. Because this isn’t over yet."
The city rushes past in a blur of neon and shadow, the roar of engines and the distant wail of sirens carving through the chaos. My grip on Sofia tightens as the SUV swerves sharply, tires shrieking against asphalt, barely missing the side of a parkedcar. She presses into me, breath ragged, her fingers clutching the front of my shirt like a lifeline.
"Hold on," I murmur, keeping one arm around her while I reach for my gun.
She doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t need to. She just holds on.
Through the shattered rear windshield, I see them. Two blacked-out SUVs, relentless in their pursuit, weaving through traffic with the kind of reckless abandon that says they don’t give a damn about collateral damage.
They only care about us.
Dante’s voice crackles through the comms. "They’re gaining. We need to lose these bastards before we bring them back to the estate."
"Working on it," Adriano grits out from the second SUV.
I glance at him through the side mirror—he’s hunched over his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard, illuminated by the eerie blue glow of the screen. His expression is tight with focus, his mind working faster than any of us can process.
