Chapter 74

Layla

I resisted the urge to pace as the sounds of the attack raged on above. Shouts, gunfire, explosions … Even though the thickly reinforced walls of the basement, I could tell things weren’t going well.

But I couldn’t let Eli see me scared.

I didn’t pace.

I sat him down on the floor and opened up a brand-new Lego set. “Let’s build a pirate ship, okay, baby?”

It seemed ridiculous, to be spreading colored blocks out on a concrete floor while a few mere feet above my head, men fought for their lives. But I was a mother, first and foremost, and today, that was my job.

Whether or not Eli realized how ridiculous my efforts were, he didn’t let on. Maybe he was glad of the distraction, or maybe he was doing the same thing for me that I was for him—feigning normalcy.

Whatever his reasons, we whiled away the minutes while overhead, the fighting raged on.

“Is Daddy okay?” Eli asked, tilting his head up from his half-built pirate ship. His voice came out steady, strong. Just like his hands on those bricks, like his blue eyes holding my gaze.

So I gave him the truth, because I’d learned how much hiding from it helped no one. “I don’t know, baby. But I know he’s fighting like anything to protect us and come back safe.”

“He will.” Eli nodded, and returned to his Legos. “He’s the toughest guy in the world!”

I nodded, his certainty bringing a smile to my lips. But even as his words brought hope to my heart, doubt quelled the warmth inside me. How much longer could Aldo and his men hold out?

When I thought I could stand it no longer, that I’d go mad and race upstairs to see what on earth was happening, the gunshots and shouts suddenly faded away.

I rose and pressed my ear to the door, heart racing. Silence had fallen. The fight was over—for better or for worse. And I needed to know which.

My fingers curled around the grip of the gun in my waistband. “Stay here, Eli. I’ll be right back. Okay?”

“But,” Eli climb to his feet, “Daddy said—”

“Daddy isn’t always right.” I offered him a smile, pressed a kiss to his forehead. “And I’m pretty tough, too.”

I slipped out of the room before he could protest further.

Smoke and debris filled the air on the main floor of the manor. My lungs burned as I paced down the halls, headed towards where I’d last heard gunshots, could still hear voices.

My pistol had found its way into my hand, and even as I kept my ears and eyes open, I tracked hiding places along my route. If I got any indication that something was amiss, that Marco’s men had won the fight, I was more than prepared to vanish.

The sound of voices grew louder from ahead, and I slowed my pace. I thought I caught the faint twinge of a Russian accent, and when Aldo’s deep voice responded in a low murmur, relief coursed through me hard enough to make my knees week.

I broke into a jog. Rounded the final turn … into chaos.

An entire wall of the manor had been blown wide open, chunks of marble and concrete and wood splayed out over the lawn like broken bones. Aldo’s men ambled among the rubble, trying to clear it away.

And in the middle of it all, my newly rediscovered grandfather, Dmiti Orlov, stood beside Aldo Marcello.

“Aldo!” I raced towards him, unable to hold back the wide grin that stretched across my face. “Aldo!”

He turned, and his face lit up at the sight of me—right before he reined his expression into hard lines of sobriety. “What are you doing out here?”

“I had to know …” I winced. “I was careful. But I had to know. I couldn’t stay down there anymore, waiting.”

“Always so headstrong.” He swept an arm around my waist, planted a kiss to my forehead. “Where’s Eli?”

“Downstairs. Building a pirate ship.” I extracted myself from his embrace to look him up and down, searching out signs of damage or injury. “Are you all right?”

“Physically.” He grimaced. “But the fact that my enemy was able to get so close to destroying everything …”

His words opened a pit of dread in my gut. He was right. After this kind of attack, there’d be nowhere safe for any of us.

Aldo dragged a hand through his already mussed hair, and then he turned back to Dmitri. “If it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead.”

That cold dread in my stomach widened at the truth of those words. At how close I’d come to losing so many of the things I’d worked so hard to reclaim. What would have happened to me and Eli, if the estate had fallen?

“And that’s exactly why we have this alliance,” Dmitri replied, his tone grim. “None of us is an island, son. We’re stronger surrounded by family.”

“Amen to that.” Carlo appeared beside Aldo, dabbing at a cut on his forehead with a bloodied handkerchief. “This attack was bold—even for Marco.”

“He’s gaining confidence with the Falcone family’s resources.” Aldo nodded to Dmitri. “You’re right; no man is an island. He’s surrounded himself with a second family, too.”

“But now he knows you’ve done the same,” Dmitri’s gaze skated sideways from me to the ruined estate around us. “We’ve lost the element of surprise.”

“We’re still counting bodies,” Carlo said, wincing as his handkerchief collided with his cut. “But he suffered heavy losses.”

I moved in close to snatch the handkerchief out of Carlo’s fingers before he hurt himself. “We’ve lost the element of surprise, but we’ve shown him how strong we are. He’ll think twice before his next move.”

Or at least I hoped, anyway.

“If he’s smart, he will.” Aldo nodded, his voice ragged. Grim. “Which is why we should strike hard and fast. Now. Before he has time to regroup.”

I turned away from Carlo just in time to see Dmitri’s mouth curve into a smile. “I like the way you think.”

“We took losses, too.” Carlo’s voice went somber. “Good men.”

“Such is always the case,” Aldo sighed. “When rich men fight, poor men die.”

The words jolted hard inside me. He was right; how many men would have to die for our safety? For the safety of our city?

“We lost much today,” Dmitri said. “But we didn’t lose everything. And together, we’ll fight to gain so much more than we lost.”

Aldo turned to me, his dark eyes filled with determination. “This ends with Marco and Aurora. No matter what it takes.”

Those words sang in my blood in a way that felt warm, almost hopeful, that pushed down the cold dread. The attack had all but ruined our home, taken down several of Aldo’s men, and struck a heavy emotional blow to us all.

But it had also served to solidify the alliance between the Marcello and Orlov families. It had shown Marco that we were stronger than he realized—and we wouldn’t just roll over and die.

If he wanted a battle, we’d bring a fucking war.