The silence was too perfect.
Ana felt it first, that eerie calm. The kind of quiet that presses against your skin like cold metal. It wasn't the kind of silence that came with safety. It was the kind that came before a scream.
Hayden had stepped out hours ago—something about a meet with Dom in the hills. He had kissed her hard before leaving, the kind of kiss that tasted like goodbye. She told herself it wasn't. It couldn't be.
But now, she was alone in the villa. And the power had gone out.
Not just the lights. The alarms. The backup systems. All of it.
She reached for the knife Hayden had left in her bedside drawer. The steel felt too light in her hand.
Her phone was dead. No signal. No bars.
*They cut it all.*
She backed into the hallway, heart pounding. The villa creaked around her, old wood shifting like breath.
Then she heard it.
A floorboard, groaning under a weight that wasn't hers.
She turned sharply, the knife trembling in her grip. "Who's there?"
Nothing.
Then—*footsteps.*
Ana bolted. Down the back stairwell, barefoot and fast. Her mind ran through everything Hayden had taught her in the last few days. Don't run in a straight line. Don't scream unless you want to die faster. And whatever happens—never stop moving.
She reached the cellar door.
Locked.
*They were already inside.*
She turned just as a shadow loomed behind her—tall, masked, fast.
The first man lunged.
She slashed—caught his forearm. He grunted, but didn't stop. Another man grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms. She kicked, thrashed, bit down on the closest shoulder she could reach.
"Damn—she fights like a wolf," one of them muttered.
They dragged her.
Down through the kitchen, past the ruined back door, into the waiting black van. She screamed into the night—but the road was empty. The guards were gone. *Paid off? Killed?*
She didn't know.
The van door slammed.
Ana's world turned to darkness.
---
Hayden knew something was wrong the moment he stepped out of Dom's car and saw the broken gate.
The guards—gone.
The power—dead.
The front door—wide open.
"No," he whispered. "No. No. No."
He ran inside, calling her name.
"Ana!"
Nothing.
He tore through the villa. Her bedroom—empty. The training room—empty. The wine cellar. The balconies. The bathrooms. He was shaking now.
Then he saw it.
A smear of blood on the tile.
A black feather resting beside it.
His lungs seized.
Enzo had her.
He fell to his knees in the middle of the hallway, fists clenched so tightly that blood ran from his palms. He had promised her she would be safe. He had promised her he'd never lose her again.
And now she was gone.
---
Hours later, Hayden stood in the war room—cold, furious, calm.
Dom placed a folder on the table. "We traced one of the vans. Highway camera picked it up an hour ago heading south."
Hayden opened it.
A grainy image. Ana, in the backseat. Eyes wide. Mouth gagged.
"We think they're taking her to the Rome estate," Dom said. "Your father's compound."
Hayden didn't blink. He stared at the photo for a long time. Then he reached into the drawer and pulled out his mother's picture—the one he always carried.
He tucked it into his jacket.
"She's not going to die like you did," he whispered.
Then he looked at Dom.
"Call every soldier loyal to *me.* We go to Rome."
---
Far away, in a cold stone room beneath Enzo Moretti's estate, Ana woke up tied to a chair.
A voice echoed from the shadows.
"So you're the girl my son would go to war for."
Enzo stepped forward, dressed in all black, his silver hair slicked back, eyes like frozen iron.
"You're not what I expected."
Ana met his gaze without flinching. "And you're exactly what I thought."
He smiled.
"Good. That will make this easier."
Then he turned to the guards.
"Prepare her. He'll come for her. Let's see how far he's willing to fall."