The rain fell in unrelenting, gray sheets, drowning the city streets in a dull haze. Inside the bustling café, the air smelled of roasted coffee beans, damp wool, and warm pastry.

The sharp, rhythmic pop-pop-pop of automatic weapons echoed through the dense pine forest surrounding the property.

Isabella’s cup rattled slightly against her saucer, but her expression remained remarkably calm. She set the tea down with a steady hand.

The guard outside the study burst into the room, his hand resting on the sidearm holstered at his waist. "Mrs. Romano! The Moretti crew sent a distraction to the docks! A hit squad just breached the rear gatehouse!"

Bella’s heart slammed into her throat. "What?"

"Stay inside!" the guard ordered, stepping back into the hallway to pull his weapon.

Outside the study window, the peaceful garden exploded into violence. Black-clad men with automatic rifles pushed through the manicured hedges, firing toward the main house. The estate's security team answered instantly, tactical gunfire echoing off the stone walls, shattering glass on the lower levels.

Bella grabbed Isabella’s arm, pulling the older woman down behind the heavy oak desk. "We need to cover!"

"Do not panic, child," Isabella whispered, her voice surprisingly steady despite the terrifying noise outside. "The house is armored."

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from down the hallway, followed by the sound of shouting and heavy boots stomping across the hardwood floors. The guards outside the study engaged in a rapid, deafening shootout that lasted only seconds before falling silent.

Bella held her breath, pressing herself against the back of the heavy desk, shielding Isabella with her body.

The study door was kicked open with a violent bang.

A broad-shouldered man wearing a tactical vest and a dark ski mask stepped into the room, holding a submachine gun. His eyes swept over the overturned chairs, locking onto Bella and Isabella crouched behind the desk.

"Well, well," the man sneered, raising his weapon. "Look what we have here. The old queen herself."

"Leave her alone!" Bella yelled instinctively, stepping out from behind the desk, placing herself directly between the gunman and Isabella.

The intruder laughed, a cruel, harsh sound. "Move out of the way, girl, unless you want a bullet in your chest."

"I said leave her alone!" Bella spat, her eyes wild with adrenaline. She grabbed a heavy brass statue from the top of the desk and raised it, refusing to back down.

"Brave idiot," the man growled, raising his weapon to aim straight at Bella's heart.

BANG!

A deafening shot echoed through the room.

The gunman froze. His eyes widened in shock as a small red hole appeared in the center of his chest. He staggered backward, dropping his weapon, before collapsing heavily onto the floor, motionless.

Standing in the doorway, framed by smoke and dust, was Matteo Romano.

His leather coat was torn at the shoulder, blood splattered across his cheekbone, and a smoking handgun was held firm in his large hand. His dark eyes were wild with intense, unbridled fury.

He lowered the gun, stepping over the fallen intruder in two long strides. He grabbed Bella by the shoulders, pulling her up, his large hands checking her face, her arms, her neck with frantic, possessive desperation.

"Are you hurt?" Matteo demanded, his voice low, ragged, and thick with adrenaline. "Bella! Look at me! Did he touch you?"

"I... I'm okay," Bella gasped, trembling violently as the reality of what had just happened caught up to her. "I'm not hit."

Matteo let out a harsh, ragged exhale, pulling her against his chest in an intense, fierce embrace. His arms locked around her like steel bands, burying his face into her hair. Bella felt his heart hammering wildly against his ribs—not from the battle outside, but from the sheer terror of almost losing her.

"Matteo," Isabella spoke up from behind the desk, brushing down her dress as she stood up. "I am fine as well, thank you for asking."

Matteo pulled back slightly, looking down at Bella with an intensity that burned right through her. "You stood in front of a gun for my mother," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly.

"She's an old woman," Bella whispered, tears finally overflowing her eyes. "I wasn't going to let him hurt her."

Matteo reached up, his thumb gently wiping a tear from her cheek. His touch was surprisingly soft, devoid of the harsh violence he had just displayed seconds ago.

"You are insane, Bella Marino," Matteo murmured, his eyes locking onto hers with a look of fierce, undisputed devotion. "Completely insane."

"Look who's talking," she whispered back, leaning slightly into his touch.

Marco ran into the room, covered in soot, clutching a tactical radio. "Boss! The estate is clear. The remaining Moretti men are dead or captured. The perimeter is secure."

Matteo didn't take his eyes off Bella. "Good. Call the cleanup team. And prepare the secondary residence in the city."