The tires screeched as we tore down the road, Luca white-knuckling the steering wheel while my mind raced faster than the car. I could barely breathe, my chest tight, every second that passed feeling like a countdown to something worse. Bella and Enzo—bruised, broken, held as leverage. And I was being forced into a corner, knowing damn well Marshall wouldn’t let Grace go without trying to ruin us all.
I shoved open the door the second we reached my place, my legs barely feeling the ground as I made a beeline for the office. My mind was set on one thing—my father. Giovanni had to know, and I needed his help. The door slammed shut behind me, and Luca lingered by the hallway, giving me space as I grabbed the phone, punching in the number with shaking hands.
It rang twice before the familiar
