Page 32 of Obsidian Devotion

The men move forward efficiently, zip-ties ready. I calculate my odds—two armed guards, plus Carlos. I could take one, maybe two if I'm lucky, but not before one of them puts a bullet in Sofia.

Sofia. My child. The thought of them in danger makes my vision blur with rage.

As if reading my thoughts, Carlos presses his gun barrel against Sofia's temple. "Don't even think about it, Bellanti. One wrong move and I put a bullet in her head. Family or not."

I lock eyes with him, letting him see the promise of death there. "Touch her and there won't be a hole deep enough for you to hide in."

But I allow them to secure my wrists behind me, my ankles to the chair legs. Every muscle in my body screams to fight, to protect what's mine, but I force myself to stay calm. I need to think. Need to find a way out that keeps Sofia and our child safe.

Our child.

The words echo in my head as they secure Sofia to a chair across from me. I never thought I'd want this—fatherhood, a family of my own.

Men like me don't get happy endings.

But now that it's happening, I can't imagine anything else. Can't imagine not protecting them with everything I have.

Even if Sofia came to me with lies. Even if this started as a trap. What's growing between us now is real. And what's growing inside her is innocent.

“You manipulated her from the start!” I shout, my fists clenching.

"Of course I did," Carlos says, circling us. "Though I must thank you, Lorenzo. Your child makes this so much more... poetic. A life for a life."

Sofia's eyes widen. "What are you talking about?"

"Lucia," Carlos says, his voice breaking slightly. "My daughter. She was carrying a child when she died. Michael's child."

The name hits me like a physical blow. Michael. My best friend. The memories flood back—his smile, his loyalty, his absence in my life these past years.

"Michael?" I repeat, genuinely confused. "What does Michael have to do with this?"

Carlos laughs, the sound unhinged. "Don't play dumb. My Lucia was eighteen, in Catholic school, when she met your friend. When she got pregnant, they planned to run away together." His eyes narrow. "Until you killed them both."

"That's impossible," I say firmly. "Michael was my brother in everything but blood. I would never—"

"LIAR!" Carlos roars, striking me across the face with his pistol. Blood fills my mouth as he continues, "I saw their bodies. I know your methods, your signature. The way you arrange them, the precision of your cuts."

He wheels a metal cart beside Sofia's chair, arranging torture implements methodically. My heart hammers against my ribs as he selects a scalpel, pressing it against Sofia's stomach just enough to draw a thin line of blood.

Something in me breaks. That's my child. My future. A rage I've never known darkens my vision. I strain against the restraints, feeling them dig into my flesh, drawing blood. I don't care about the pain. All I care about is getting to Sofia, shielding her body with mine, killing anyone who threatens her or our baby.

"Watch carefully, Lorenzo," Carlos says, eyes wild. "I want you to feel what I felt when I saw my daughter's body."

"STOP!" I yell, straining against my restraints. "I didn't kill Lucia or Michael. I know who did!"

Carlos pauses, scalpel hovering over Sofia's skin. "More lies?"

"Michael and Lucia reached out to me," I say rapidly. "They needed help to disappear. Starting fresh. We met, but when I got there..." I swallow hard at the memory. "They were already dead. Killed using my methods, my signature."

Carlos studies my face, searching for deception. "On the night my pregnant daughter was murdered, I received an anonymous call. When I arrived, I found them arranged like... like dolls." His voice breaks. "With your calling card all over the scene."

"Why would I kill my best friend?" I demand. "Why would I murder an eighteen-year-old girl? Think, Carlos! Someone wanted you to believe it was me."

Carlos presses the scalpel harder against Sofia's skin. "Don't trick me like you've tricked her, making her fall for you."

I look at Sofia, at the fear and confusion in her eyes, and something breaks inside me. I've spent my life building walls, keeping people at a distance. Sofia slipped past those defenses. And now there's a child—my child—depending on me. I've never begged for anything in my life, but I'll beg now. For them.

"Please," I plead, my voice raw. "She's innocent in all this. Your own niece. Your blood."

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