Calculated Risk

The next day, the Valenti estate woke beneath steady rain.

Grey clouds pressed low over the grounds, muting the world into shades of steel and shadow. The rain didn’t cleanse anything. It only made everything feel heavier.

Bella stood at the window of her room, her shoulder freshly bandaged, the fabric tight and uncomfortable against her skin. Her body was exhausted. She hadn’t slept at all. Her mind hadn’t even tried.

The night replayed itself every time she closed her eyes.

There was a knock at the door.

She didn’t turn. “It’s open.”

Marco stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her reflection in the glass. The way she stood too still. Too controlled.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said.

“I am,” Bella replied quietly. “Just not sleeping.”

That earned a faint, humorless breath from him. He pushed off the wall and moved closer, stopping a few steps behind her.

“I need to ask you something,” Marco said. “And I need you to answer honestly.”

Bella’s jaw tightened. She kept her eyes on the rain. “About yesterday?”

“No.” His voice lowered. “About Luca Santoro.”

Silence stretched between them.

Bella’s fingers curled slowly against the cool glass, knuckles paling.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” she said flatly.

Marco wasn’t surprised. “You don’t get to decide that.”

She turned then, eyes sharp. “I do when it’s my life.”

He held her gaze, unflinching. “Not when it puts the family at risk.”

That landed.

Marco exhaled slowly. “When he was here,” he continued, choosing his words with care. “Before he remembered who he was. When he was inside this estate. Something happened between you.”

Bella laughed once. Short. Empty. “No.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“That’s all you’re getting.”

Marco stepped closer. “Bella. I saw you yesterday. I saw the way you looked at him. That doesn’t come from nothing.”

Her voice dropped. “You didn’t see anything.”

“I saw enough,” he said. “So tell me. What happened?”

For a moment, she looked like she might explode. Then something else slid into place instead.

Control.

“Drop it,” she said quietly. “Don’t mention him again. Not to me. Not ever.”

Marco studied her face. The tension. The restraint. The damage she was working so hard to keep buried.

“That bad?” he asked.

Her eyes flashed. “You don’t get to ask that.”

He nodded slowly. “Then hear this.”

She stiffened.

“The next time you see him,” Marco said, his voice hardening, “and you have a clear shot—”

He paused deliberately.

“You take it.”

The words hit like ice water.

Bella stared at him. “You want me to kill him.”

“I want you alive,” Marco replied. “And I want this family intact. He’s Santoro. He will never stop being Santoro.”

Her chest rose and fell once. Slowly.

“I won’t miss,” she said.

Marco searched her face for hesitation. For weakness. He found nothing he could trust.

“Good,” he said. “Then we’re done here.”

He turned to leave, stopping at the door.

“And Bella,” he added, without looking back, “if you hesitate next time… I’ll know.”

The door closed softly behind him.

Bella stood there long after, the room suddenly too quiet.

Across the city, Luca sat in the study, reviewing reports he already knew by heart, when Alessia entered without knocking. She moved with purpose. No softness. No hesitation.

“We need to talk about the wedding,” she said.

He looked up. “We already set a date.”

“Yes,” she replied. “And it’s too far away.”

That got his attention.

She stepped closer, placing her hands on the desk. “After yesterday, after the territory loss, after everything… delay looks like weakness.”

Luca straightened slightly. “What are you saying?”

Alessia met his gaze head-on. “We move it up. Significantly.”

A pause.

“How soon?” he asked.

“Weeks,” she said. “Not months.”

The word landed heavier than he expected.

Luca leaned back, surprise flickering across his expression before he buried it. He hadn’t anticipated this. Not so fast. Not like this.

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t protest.

He nodded once. “If that’s what’s required.”

Alessia searched his face. “You’re not opposed.”

“No,” he said calmly. “I’m not.”

Satisfied, she straightened. “Good. I’ll inform Don Vittorio.”

She turned to leave, then stopped. “You’ll need to be more present,” she added. “People notice things.”

“I know,” Luca replied.

She left.

Luca stared at the papers on his desk without seeing them.

Weeks.

There would be no space left. No delay. No illusion of time to think.

Somewhere across the city, Bella Valenti was being told to pull the trigger the next time she saw him.

And Luca Santoro, heir to a family that demanded absolute loyalty, had just agreed to lock himself into a future that left no room for hesitation.

That night, the air was thick with tension.

Rain streaked across the windshield as Alessandro drove, the wipers moving in a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm. Bella sat beside him, quiet, her thoughts too loud to trust with words.

They were almost clear of the estate grounds when Alessandro’s hand tightened on the wheel.

“Something’s wrong,” he said.

Bella barely had time to turn her head.

Movement exploded from the alleyways.

Moretti men.

Too many.

Gunfire tore through the night.

Alessandro reacted without hesitation. He swerved hard, angling the car to put his body between Bella and the incoming shots. Glass shattered. The car spun halfway before he forced it back under control.

“Get down!” he shouted.

Another shot rang out.

Alessandro gasped, his body jerking violently. Pain ripped through his side as the bullet tore into him. He slammed one hand against the wound, blood already soaking through his fingers.

Bella caught him before he could slump fully forward. “Alessandro!”

“I’m fine,” he lied through clenched teeth. “Get your gun.”

She was already moving, firing back through the shattered window, precise and lethal. But the attackers kept coming, closing in fast.

Alessandro fought to stay conscious, forcing the car forward another few meters before it finally died with a sickening cough. He reached for Bella, gripping her wrist with surprising strength.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice strained. “You don’t let them take you. You run.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she snapped.

He shook his head sharply. “Bella. Look at me.”

She did.

And understood.

Before she could argue, hands grabbed her from behind. She twisted, fired once, but another blow caught her ribs, driving the air from her lungs. She was yanked backward, dragged from the car.

“Bella!” Alessandro shouted, trying to reach her, but his strength failed him. He collapsed against the seat, vision blurring, rain mixing with blood on his skin.

The van doors slammed shut.

Darkness swallowed her.

Pain, fear, adrenaline surged all at once. Bella struggled, kicking and twisting, but the men were strong, trained. The cold certainty of her vulnerability settled in her chest.

Her jaw tightened.

I can’t do this alone.

Miles away, in the quiet study of the Santoro estate, Luca’s phone buzzed.

Bella taken. Alessandro injured. Morettis.

His chest tightened. His pulse slammed in his ears.

He should have ignored it. Should have obeyed. Should have stayed where he was.

But the thought of her trapped, bound, alone burned hotter than any fear of consequence.

He called Marco.

No answer.

That alone told him how bad this could end.

When the call finally connected, there was no greeting. Just steady breathing.

“You have five seconds,” Marco said. “Then I hang up.”

Luca didn’t waste them.

“Bella was taken by the Morettis,” he said evenly. “You know that. I know where to start looking.”

Silence.

Not surprise. Just calculation.

“And why,” Marco said slowly, “would I listen to a man who should already be dead?”

“Because you’re running out of time,” Luca replied. “And because you don’t have to trust me. Just use me.”

“You’re our enemy.”

“Yes.”

“You’re engaged to a woman who would slit my sister’s throat without blinking.”

“Yes.”

“Then explain why I shouldn’t track your signal and put a bullet in your skull.”

“Because until Bella is safe,” Luca said quietly, “I am your ally. After that, you can try to kill me.”

A short, humorless laugh.

“You think this is funny?”

“No. I think it’s honest.”

Another pause.

“You expect me to believe you care about her.”

“I expect you to act like a man who wants his sister alive.”

Silence.

“Location,” Marco said at last.

Luca gave it.

They met an hour later.

Neutral ground. Barely.

Temporary allies. Permanent consequences.

And somewhere, bound and waiting, Bella remained the reason both men were willing to break every rule they lived by.