"I don't care if it's advisable," Gianna replied, her voice taking on the commanding tone she used in business negotiations. "You saved my life tonight, and I'm grateful. But I'm not a prisoner. If you won't take me to the hotel, then drop me off here and I'll walk."The team leader's expression—what Gianna could see of it—suggested he was reassessing her. "Miss Moretti, walking alone in the city at this hour after an attack would be extremely dangerous.""Then give me a ride," Gianna challenged. "Because I'm going to that hotel whether you help me or not."She meant it. Every word. The stubborn determination that had carried her through years of business challenges and family pressure crystallized into absolute resolve. She would not be stopped. Not by fake meetings, not by attacks, not by mysterious tactical teams with unknown orders.She expected resistance. Expected them to physically restrain her if necessary—after all, there were ten of them and one of her. But to her surprise,

Giovanni Benedetti sat in his study nursing a scotch that was doing nothing to improve his foul mood when his phone rang with Antonio Romano's number. He answered immediately, expecting confirmation that Gianna had been successfully prevented from meeting Stephani.Instead, Antonio's voice carried frustration and defensive anger. "We have a problem.""What kind of problem?" Giovanni demanded, setting down his glass with barely controlled force."The men I sent after Gianna—they failed. Completely."Giovanni felt his jaw clench with rising fury. "Failed how?""I don't have all the details yet," Antonio admitted. "All I know is that some kind of tactical team intervened. Professional operators. They neutralized my men in seconds and extracted Gianna before we could complete the objective.""Tactical team?" Giovanni repeated, his mind racing through implications. "What tactical team? Who sent them?""We don't know," Antonio replied with obvious frustration. "But that's not the worst part

Vincent approached the Romano estate with controlled fury radiating from every precise movement. His five elite operators flanked him in tight formation—armed, dangerous, and moving with the coordinated efficiency that came from years of high-stakes operations.The estate's main gate loomed ahead, its security checkpoint manned by uniformed guards who represented the Romano family's supposedly sophisticated protection.But as Vincent and his team approached, something unexpected happened.The guards recognized the tactical team immediately. Their eyes widened with shock and what could only be described as fear. One guard actually dropped the clipboard he'd been holding, the sound of it hitting concrete echoing in the sudden tense silence."Sir," one guard stammered, snapping to attention with military precision that suggested prior service. "We didn't know you were—we weren't informed of your arrival—"The other guards had similarly frozen, their hands moving away from their weapons i

One of the elite operators moved with brutal efficiency, swinging the butt of his weapon in a precise arc that connected with Kevin's face with sickening force. The impact was exact—calculated to incapacitate without killing, delivered with the kind of professional violence that came from extensive training.Kevin's head snapped back, his eyes rolling up as consciousness fled instantly. He collapsed backward, his chair tipping over as his body hit the floor with a heavy thud.Maria screamed. Francesca gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.And Antonio stood frozen, staring at his unconscious son with the awareness that this could have been so much worse. That operator had pulled that strike. Had delivered exactly enough force to knock Kevin out without causing permanent damage.It was a display of precision and restraint that paradoxically made the violence more threatening rather than less."He'll wake up in an hour or two with a nasty headache and some bruising," Vincent said clinic

Giovanni's blood ran cold. He knew that insignia. Had seen it in briefings about high-level security operations. It represented one of the most elite private military contractors in the world—the kind of organization that didn't advertise publicly but whose reputation circulated quietly among those wealthy enough to know such services existed."Maria," Giovanni said carefully, his earlier urgency giving way to cautious neutrality, "did Antonio mention my name at all? To Vincent or to those men?"Maria paused, confused by the question and the sudden change in Giovanni's tone. "What? No, I don't think so. Why would he—""Good," Giovanni said, and the coldness in his voice made Maria stop mid-sentence."Good?" Maria repeated, shock replacing some of her panic. "What do you mean 'good'? Giovanni, they took my husband! They knocked out my son! How is any of this good?""I meant it's good that my name wasn't mentioned," Giovanni replied with brutal honesty. "Maria, I'm sorry about what happ