The moment seven-year-old Noah whispered, "Please don't leave us alone with her again,"

The rain began to fall at midnight, a steady, whispering drizzle that muffled the sounds of the night.

In the master bedroom of the main house, Adriano sat in a chair by the window, a heavy Colt revolver resting on his knee. He hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. He could hear the soft, rhythmic breathing of Noah and Liam, who were sleeping in his bed, their small bodies curled together under the heavy duvet.

Suddenly, the red light on the security panel beside the door began to flash.

Kitchen Entrance: Code Accepted.

Adriano stood up instantly, his hand tightening around the grip of his revolver. The kitchen code was private—only he, Helena, and Vanessa knew it.

He moved quickly to the door, stepping out into the quiet corridor. The house was dark, the only light coming from the faint green glow of the exit signs. He reached the top of the marble staircase, looking down into the grand hall.

The heavy oak doors of the kitchen opened, and three figures slipped into the warmth of the house, their clothes dripping wet from the rain. In the lead was Vanessa, her face pale, her hands trembling as she was pushed forward by a tall man with a rifle.

"Where are they?" the gunman whispered, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space.

"Upstairs," Vanessa said, her voice shaking. "The children’s wing is to the left. Adriano’s room is at the end of the hall."

Adriano didn't wait. He raised his revolver and fired two shots into the darkness.

The blast was deafening in the enclosed space. The first bullet hit the stone floor near Vanessa’s feet, sending sparks flying. The second caught the gunman in the shoulder, throwing him backward against the kitchen door.

"Ambush!" the second gunman yelled, raising his rifle and returning fire.

The bullets ripped through the plaster of the upper banister, throwing wood splinters into Adriano’s face. He ducked behind a heavy marble pillar, his heart hammering against his ribs.