CHAPTER FIVE
Anna's PoV
The wooden spoon clattered to the floor as Mama Torrino released her grip on it. Her weathered hands shook with emotion as she stared at me with eyes that held decades of pain. Little Sofia squirmed in my arms, her tiny hands clutching at my shirt as if sensing the tension in the room.
"You run, girl," Mama Torrino said, her thick Italian accent making her broken English sound even more urgent. "My son... he is not the monster, but he brings monsters to your door."
Don Vincenzo stepped forward, his jaw tight with frustration. "Mama, please. You do not understand the situation."
But his mother ignored him completely, her fierce gaze never leaving my face. The intensity in her dark eyes made my stomach clench with fear. This woman had lived through things I could not even imagine, and now she was warning me about dangers I did not yet comprehend.
"The man who hired you..." she continued, pointing a gnarled finger at me. "He killed my husband."
The words hit me like a physical blow. My heart began racing as I processed what she had just said. Burton Walsh - the smooth-talking government official who had convinced me to take this case - had murdered Don Vincenzo's father? The room seemed to spin around me as the implications crashed down.
"What do you mean?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.
Mama Torrino's face crumpled with grief, and I could see tears beginning to form in her eyes. "Twenty years ago, my Giuseppe was trying to leave this life. He wanted to go legitimate, to give his children a better future. But that man... that devil... he could not allow it."
Don Vincenzo moved closer to his mother, his voice gentle but firm. "Mama, this is not the time for old stories."
"No!" she snapped, whirling around to face her son. "It is exactly the time! This girl needs to know what she has walked into. She needs to understand that the people who sent her here are not the good guys."
Sofia began to whimper in my arms, frightened by the raised voices and tension in the room. I bounced her gently, trying to soothe her while my mind raced to process everything I was hearing. If what Mama Torrino was saying was true, then everything I thought I knew about this situation was a lie.
"Your father was a good man," Mama Torrino continued, her voice breaking with emotion. "He made mistakes, yes, but he was trying to make them right. He had evidence of corruption, of crimes that went all the way to the top of government. He was going to turn it all over to the authorities."
"And Burton killed him for it?" I asked, the words feeling strange and bitter in my mouth.
"He made it look like an accident," she said, nodding grimly. "A car crash on a rainy night. But Giuseppe was the most careful driver I ever knew. He would never have lost control of his car like that."
Don Vincenzo ran his hands through his dark hair, his face a mask of controlled pain. I could see the muscles in his jaw working as he struggled with emotions he clearly did not want to show. The man I had thought was a cold, calculating criminal was revealing himself to be something much more complex.
"This is why you need to run," Mama Torrino said, turning back to me. "They will not stop until you are dead. You know too much now, and they cannot risk you talking."
Before I could respond, before I could even begin to formulate questions about what this all meant, the peaceful afternoon was shattered by a sound that made my blood freeze.
Leo burst through the doorway, his face flushed with exertion and fear. His usually calm demeanor was completely gone, replaced by urgent panic.
"Boss!" he shouted, not bothering with pleasantries or apologies for interrupting. "We have got company - black SUVs surrounding the villa. They found us!"
The color drained from Don Vincenzo's face as he immediately shifted into survival mode. "How many?" he demanded, already moving toward what I now realized must be a weapons cache hidden behind one of the bookshelves.
"At least twenty vehicles," Leo replied, his voice tight with stress. "Maybe more. They have got the entire perimeter covered."
My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. Sofia sensed my fear and began crying in earnest, her small body trembling against mine. I looked around the beautiful villa that had seemed so peaceful just moments before, and now it felt like a trap.
"Who are they?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.
"Burton's people," Don Vincenzo replied grimly, pulling weapons from what had appeared to be an innocent bookshelf. "Government agents, mercenaries, corrupt officials - it does not matter. They are all here to kill us."
Mama Torrino moved with surprising speed for her age, pressing a small object into my free hand. When I looked down, I saw it was an old, worn photograph of a man who looked remarkably like Don Vincenzo.
"That is Giuseppe," she said, her voice now steady despite the chaos erupting around us. "Remember his face. Remember that good men can be destroyed by evil ones, but the truth always finds a way to survive."
The sound of engines revving outside grew louder, and I could hear shouted orders in English. Burton's people were not even trying to be subtle about this. They had come here to end this once and for all.
"Anna," Don Vincenzo said, his voice cutting through my panic. "Do you trust me?"
I looked at him, this man who had kidnapped me from prison, who had brought me to a foreign country against my will, who represented everything I had been taught to fear and despise. But I also saw the man who had protected me, who had shown tenderness with his daughter, who had just been revealed as the son of a murder victim.
"I do not know," I answered honestly.
"Then trust this," he said, moving closer to me and Sofia. "I will die before I let them hurt you or my daughter."
The intensity in his green eyes made me believe him. Whatever Don Vincenzo Torrino was - criminal, father, victim, protector - he meant what he said.
"There is a safe room in the basement," he continued. "Leo will take you and Sofia there while I handle this."
"No," I said, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. "If we are going to survive this, we do it together."
Before anyone could respond, the afternoon air exploded with the deafening sound of automatic gunfire. The windows facing the front of the villa shattered inward, sending glass cascading across the marble floors.
Gunshots exploded outside as armed men stormed the villa.