It started with silence.
A thick, unnatural stillness that settled over the vineyard like a blanket soaked in oil. Casey woke to it—not the sound, but the absence of it. No insects. No wind. No whispers of leaves against stone.
Just stillness.
Then came the flames.
An explosion rocked the far edge of the vineyard, where the wine barrels were stored. A second boom followed, sending a plume of black smoke curling into the sky. Screams. Running feet. Glass shattering.
Casey jolted out of bed, barefoot on the cold tiles. She didn't have time to think. Just move.
"Ivan!" she shouted, heart racing.
But it was Mirella who burst into her room first, gun in one hand, blood streaked across her forehead.
"We have to go. Now. They're inside."
Ivan was already bleeding when he reached the hallway.
He'd taken a blade to the ribs trying to fight off the first wave—men dressed like vineyard workers but with dead eyes and military precision. Luca fought beside him like a man possessed, wielding two pistols with terrifying calm.
"They're not here for the estate," Luca growled. "They're here for her."
Ivan cursed, yanked a gun from the fallen man at his feet, and shouted, "Casey!"
"West corridor!" Mirella yelled from the landing. "I've got her!"
"I'll clear the back exit," Luca said, already moving.
Ivan didn't wait. He ran, blood soaking into his shirt, smoke stinging his lungs.
He found Casey in the narrow hallway, gripping her stomach, pale and terrified.
Her eyes locked with his—and for a moment, there was no war. No blood. Just them.
"I'm here," he said hoarsely.
She opened her mouth to speak, but a bullet tore through the wall just behind her, and he dove forward, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down.
Gunfire erupted. Screams echoed. The walls trembled.
Mirella fired back with surgical precision, taking down one man with a shot to the head. "MOVE!"
Ivan dragged Casey behind a wine rack. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. "The baby—it's fine, I think—I'm okay."
Ivan swallowed the roar in his chest. "Good. Stay down."
"Ivan—"
He cut her off. "I'll kill every last one of them."
She caught his wrist. "And then what? You'll still bleed."
In the chaos outside, Daehyun Park stood at the top of the hill, dressed in all black, a curved dagger in one hand. His expression was unreadable. Cold. Unfeeling.
Beside him stood a young woman with a scar running down her jaw—Isabella, one of his assassins.
"You know," she said quietly, "if you really wanted to kill your brother, you wouldn't have sent amateurs."
Daehyun didn't smile. "I'm not here for him. I want to see her with my own eyes. The child she carries… it's the prophecy mother died to bury."
Inside, Luca reached the emergency tunnel—an escape passage used decades ago during mafia crackdowns. He yanked it open and gestured to Mirella and Casey.
"Down! Now!"
Casey hesitated, looking back. "Where's Ivan?"
"I'll get him," Luca said.
"I'm not leaving without him."
But Mirella shoved her forward. "You will. He wouldn't forgive himself if you didn't survive."
Ivan, still fighting, had taken out three more men before one of them got too close and drove a blade into his side. He cried out but stayed on his feet, firing his last bullet into the man's throat.
Then everything blurred.
The hallway swam. His knees buckled.
And then—hands. Two sets.
One strong and cold. The other warm and trembling.
Casey.
She was supposed to be gone, but she was holding him up now, tears falling freely.
"You idiot," she whispered. "Why didn't you run?"
"I told you," he rasped, "I can't."
And then, behind her, Daehyun emerged.
Older than Ivan. Eyes like mirrors.
"Well," Daehyun said softly. "Isn't this sweet."
Casey stared at the man who looked so much like Ivan—but colder, sharper, almost inhuman. The resemblance was there in the jawline, in the cruel curve of the mouth. But the eyes... Daehyun's eyes held no remorse. No regret. Only ambition.
"Ivan," she whispered. "Who is he?"
Ivan didn't answer. He couldn't. Blood soaked through his shirt, his hand pressed against the wound, barely holding on.
Daehyun tilted his head slightly. "So this is the girl who carries the heir."
He walked slowly toward them, no hurry in his steps, dagger glinting in the firelight behind him. "You should be proud, brother. You did what no one else could."
Ivan gritted his teeth. "She's not yours to touch."
"Wasn't asking for permission," Daehyun said coolly. He stopped just a few steps away. "The prophecy says the one born of shadow and light would bring either salvation or destruction to our bloodline. You think I'd risk that?"
"She's not part of this," Ivan growled.
"She is this," Daehyun snapped. "You really don't know, do you?"
Ivan blinked.
Daehyun looked at Casey. "Tell him. Tell him whose blood runs through your veins."
Casey's pulse roared in her ears. Her voice trembled. "My mother... Emilia. She was your father's prisoner. But she wasn't just anyone. She was from the line of the Rosettis. One of the original mafia bloodlines. A family your father tried to erase."
Ivan's mouth parted in shock.
Daehyun chuckled. "So you see, brother. The child she carries... it isn't just the next Park heir. It's the resurrection of two houses meant to stay buried. That baby is a threat to everything."
Behind Daehyun, Isabella raised her gun, aiming for Casey.
And then—
A shot rang out. But it wasn't from Isabella.
Mirella stood behind her, gun still smoking, eyes wide. Isabella collapsed without a word, lifeless.
"Get away from them," Mirella said, voice shaking. "Or I swear I'll put a bullet between your eyes."
Daehyun didn't flinch. "You're loyal. I'll give you that."
Then, from the shadows, Luca stepped into the light, rifle raised. "And I'm deadly."
Daehyun paused. His smile faded.
"This isn't over," he said finally. "You can't hide forever."
And with one last glance at Casey—almost... curious—he turned and vanished into the smoke.
By the time they reached the escape car, Ivan could barely stand. Luca drove like a madman down winding back roads while Mirella kept pressure on Ivan's wound.
Casey held his hand the whole time, whispering nonsense just to keep him conscious.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, voice faint.
"For what?" she whispered.
"For everything. For using you. For hurting you. I didn't know what you were."
Her throat ached. "I'm still me."
Ivan's eyes fluttered shut.
"No," he murmured, just before passing out. "You're more."
They made it to a safehouse deep in the Tuscan hills—hidden, ancient, and once used by Emilia herself.
Ivan was alive. Barely.
Casey stayed at his side, night after night, as Luca and Mirella fortified the place.
One evening, as the sun dipped low and cast orange light across the floor, Casey ran her hand gently over Ivan's bandaged torso.
"I won't let them take you," she whispered. "And I won't let this child be a weapon."
She looked down at her growing belly. A tear slipped down her cheek.
"Whoever you are," she said to the child, "you were born in fire. But I'll raise you in love. Even if it kills me."
Outside the window, far up on the hill, Daehyun stood once again.
He lit a cigarette and watched the house from afar.
Next time, he would bring an army.
And next time... there would be no mercy.