Chapter 3

After dinner ended, I followed the crowd toward the estate gates. The rain had stopped, but the night air was damp and cold, making the wound on my shoulder ache dully.

Out of habit, I walked toward the passenger seat—the position I'd occupied for ten years.

My hand had just touched the door handle when Ricardo's voice came over.

"Ella."

I turned my head. He was holding Sofia's hand, his other hand also reaching for the passenger door handle.

"You take the second car," he said.

I could feel the eyes of people behind me staring, those family members, those who'd just attended Ricardo and another woman's engagement dinner tonight.

"Security considerations." Ricardo added, his voice as bland as stating the weather. "Spreading the risk."

I knew he was lying. If it were security considerations, Sofia should take the second car, or at least she and I should ride separately. But now he was seating her beside him and stuffing me into the last car. This wasn't security considerations. This was drawing boundaries.

I withdrew my hand, my fingers tightening slightly. Ten years of habit could be broken so easily.

"Understood," I said.

I turned and walked toward the last car. Marco had already opened the door for me. I slipped into the back seat, and the door closed behind me with a dull sound.

As the car entered the tunnel, the driver's voice came over the intercom. "Four motorcycles approaching. They're getting too close."

Marco's voice immediately tensed. "Speed up and pull away. Everyone on alert."

The first gunshot came without warning. Our car's window glass spiderwebbed.

"They're shooting!" the driver shouted, jerking the wheel hard.

More gunfire erupted. The sound of bullets hitting the car body was like dense hammering. I pressed down low, looking out from the edge of the shattered window. The motorcyclists wore all-black helmets, weaving through traffic, their gun muzzles continuously spewing fire.

"They're targeting the middle car!" Marco roared into the intercom. "Protect the boss! Stop them!"

The Escalade ahead accelerated, but the tunnel traffic was too dense. A box truck suddenly changed lanes, blocking the middle of the road. The ear-splitting sound of brakes nearly tore through eardrums.

Our car slammed hard into the front vehicle's bumper. My head struck the back of the front seat, everything going black for a moment.

Then I saw it.

In the tunnel's emergency lane, a motorcyclist stopped. The metal tube on his shoulder reflected cold light in the dim illumination.

RPG.

Time seemed to slow down. I saw the rocket leave the launcher, trailing flames as it flew toward us.

Its trajectory pointed directly at the car Ricardo was in, but if it hit, the explosion would engulf all the vehicles in front and behind.

I pushed open the car door and rolled to the ground, raising my gun to aim. The bullet hit the rider's shoulder, and he fell backward. But the rocket had already been fired.

Just then, the back door of that car flew open.

Ricardo jumped out.

His movements were incredibly fast. He grabbed Sofia from inside the car, using his entire body to shield her, diving toward the crash barrier beside them. And in completing this action, his right foot kicked hard against the open car door on my side.

Tremendous force transmitted.

The car door slammed into me. I was thrown backward, my back crashing into the tunnel wall, then falling to the cold ground.

The explosion's flames engulfed that car.

The heat wave slapped my face. I could smell the burning of my hair. Broken glass and metal fragments rained down. Something sharp pierced my right leg, the intense pain making me clench my teeth.

I coughed a few times, tasting blood in my mouth. I struggled to lift my head.

That car was burning, twisted into a metal skeleton.

Ricardo stood up. His suit was torn, blood on his face, but he stood steady. He held Sofia in his arms, she curled against his chest, her golden hair disheveled, but she appeared uninjured.

He looked down and said something to her. Then he raised his head, his gaze sweeping across where I was.

It paused for a moment.

Maybe less than a second.

Then he turned away. He picked up Sofia, turned and quickly walked toward the tunnel exit. Marco and two other bodyguards rushed up to cover them.

He didn't look back at me. Not once.

I lay on the wet, cold ground, blood flowing from the wound in my leg, feeling the warm liquid soak through my pant leg. My ribs might be injured—every breath brought sharp pain.

But none of this pain mattered.

What truly left me unable to breathe was the cold emptiness in my chest. Like something important had been completely gouged out, leaving a gaping hole that whistled with wind.

In the last moment before losing consciousness, I suddenly remembered what Ricardo had said to me many years ago. He said that in this world, emotions are burdens, and burdens will get you killed quickly.

I didn't believe it then, but now I had to.

When I woke again, I was already lying on a bed in Ricardo's family's secret medical room. The doctor stood beside me with concern, wanting to say something.

"Where's Ricardo?" My voice was hoarse and frightening.

The doctor's expression was complex. He said nothing, just handed me a tablet.

The surveillance footage from the master bedroom suite jumped out.

Sofia sat on the bed, wearing a white silk robe. She was trembling, face pale, eyes red. Ricardo sat on the edge of the bed, holding a glass of water.

"Drink a little," he said to her, his voice softer than I'd ever heard. "It's okay now. I'm here."

"I was so scared," Sofia's voice carried a sob. "Those people wanted to kill us."

"They won't get another chance," Ricardo said. He set down the water glass and held her hand. "I promise."

Then he pulled out a velvet box from his pocket.

A deep blue small box. I recognized it. Too familiar.

Inside was the Conti family matriarch's heirloom ring. A five-carat square blue diamond, surrounded by a circle of white diamonds. It was only passed to officially recognized wives of the family.

Ricardo knelt on one knee. Beside the bed. Before that woman.

He opened the box. The diamond reflected a cold, dazzling light under the lamp.

"Sofia Rostov," his voice was clear, firm, filled with emotion I'd never heard. "Marry me."

Sofia covered her mouth with her hand, tears rolling down.

"Not for the family, not for the alliance," Ricardo continued, his eyes locked on hers. "Because I love you. Will you become my wife?"

"I will," Sofia said through tears. "I will, Ricardo."

He placed the ring on her finger, then leaned down and kissed her hand.

I stared at the screen.

At that diamond.

At that deeply affectionate, focused expression on his face.

So he could say these words.

So he understood what love was.

He just never said it to me. Not once in ten years.

The screen began to blur. I blinked, feeling hot liquid slide down my cheeks. I reached out and turned off the surveillance.

The wound in my leg still hurt, but that pain was distant. The cold emptiness in my chest had disappeared, replaced by something clearer, harder. Like something new growing from the ruins, cold, sharp, immovable.

Ricardo Conti had made his choice.

He chose to protect her. He chose to propose to her. He chose to give her everything he hadn't given me in ten years.

Now, it was my turn to make my choice.

I closed my eyes. I remembered many years ago when I first met Ricardo. Back then he wasn't yet the godfather, and I wasn't his weapon. We were both young, thinking the future held countless possibilities.

Ten years had passed. Now only one possibility remained.