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The first time he’s known, truly, what he’s fighting for.

Giuliana’s strength lives in this boy.

So does Luca’s fire.

And something inside him—something brutal and broken—begins to heal.

“Are you hurt?” he whispers.

Daniel shakes his head. “I heard yelling. I thought Mom—”

“She’s safe,” Luca says, voice firm. “And now so are you. But we need to move.”

He cups Daniel’s cheek. “I need you to close your eyes. And don’t open them. Not until I say.”

Daniel hesitates. Brave. Terrified.

Luca kisses his forehead. “You’re a Moretti. That means you survive.”

Daniel nods and squeezes his eyes shut.

Luca stands, holding him tighter, tighter than anything he’s ever held.

Turk’s voice cuts through the comms again. “Two more. East stairwell. Headed straight for you.”

Luca runs.

Daniel in his arms.

Gun in his free hand.

Every step is agony and instinct.

Turk barks orders through the static. “Get to the extraction point.”

“I’ve got him,” Luca pants. “I’m not letting go.”

He blasts open the side stairwell—corridor thick with smoke and flashing lights.

Two silhouettes ahead.

Not his men.

Luca doesn’t hesitate.

He fires.

One down. The second disappears into the smoke.

He doesn’t chase.

He breaks through the final door—into the loading dock. Sirens scream in the distance.

An SUV idles at the corner. Turk’s man signals.

Luca dives in, slams the door shut, cradling Daniel to his chest.

“Drive.”