Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance, not for them, not yet, but close enough to tighten the air in the car.
Dominic drove like a man who knew every street by instinct. He did not speed recklessly. He chose turns with intention, doubling back once, then cutting through a narrow service road that spit them out near the river. Streetlights streaked across the windshield in pale flashes.
Eli had gone quiet.
That scared her more than his crying would have.
Dominic checked the rearview mirror for the third time in under a minute. No headlights clung to them. No obvious tail. Still, his shoulders stayed tense, his jaw set.
"They were not freelancers," he said finally. "They moved like men who expected compliance."
The word "compliance" made her stomach twist.
"You mean they expected me to hand my son over," Lucia said.
"Yes."
Her fingers tightened around Eli. "For what? Proof. Leverage."
"Both," Dominic replied. "Your refusing to disappear embarrassed the wrong people. They wanted to remind you how vulnerable you are."
Lucia leaned her forehead briefly against the cool glass of the window, forcing herself to breathe evenly. Panic would fracture her focus. She needed clarity. She needed options.
"Where are you taking us?" she asked.
"A safe house," Dominic said. "Not connected to me publicly."
"You have too many enemies for that sentence to be comforting."
"I also have contingencies," he said. "More than you know."
Eli stirred, lifting his head slightly. "Are we going somewhere new?"
Lucia pressed a kiss to his hair. "Just for a little while."
"Is Mama in danger?" he asked softly.
Lucia hesitated. Children sensed lies the way animals sensed storms.
"Yes," she said. "But danger does not mean helpless."
Eli nodded, absorbing it in his quiet way. "Okay."
The car crossed a bridge, the river below dark and restless. Lucia watched the water slide past and felt the weight of memory press in. Years ago, she had crossed another bridge in the opposite direction, heart pounding, future uncertain. She had promised herself she would never be hunted again.
Promises did not stop bullets. Or men who believed power excused everything.
The safe house was not a house at all.
Dominic pulled into the underground garage of a mid-rise residential building tucked between older brick apartments. Nothing flashy. Nothing memorable. He parked in an unmarked spot, killed the engine, and listened.
Silence.
"Stay close," he said.
The elevator ride was short and claustrophobic. Lucia stood between Dominic and Eli, her hand firm on her son's shoulder. When the doors opened, the hallway was empty, the carpet muted, and the lighting warm and deceptively calm.
Dominic unlocked the door with a code, then a key, then a second code. Inside, the apartment was modest. Clean. Lived-in just enough to feel real.
Lucia scanned it in seconds. Two bedrooms. One bathroom. Kitchen open to the living area. Windows reinforced. No obvious blind spots.
"You planned this," she said.
"I plan for everything," Dominic replied.
Eli sat on the couch, exhaustion finally catching up with him. Lucia knelt in front of him, smoothing his hair back.
"You did very well," she said quietly.
"I wasn't scared," he said, though his voice wobbled. "Not a lot."
Her chest tightened. "You were very brave."
Dominic stood a few steps away, watching, saying nothing. The silence between them was heavy, altered by what had happened. Violence changed the shape of things. It stripped illusions bare.
Once Eli was settled in the bedroom, curled under unfamiliar blankets but already drifting toward sleep, Lucia returned to the living room.
Dominic was on the phone.
"No," he said quietly. "Not police. Not yet. I want names first. Then routes. Then silence."
He ended the call and turned to her. "They will not try again tonight."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because tonight failed," he said. "Men like that do not repeat mistakes without adjusting."
Lucia crossed her arms. "You broke one of them."
"He will recover."
"You were very sure of that."
Dominic met her gaze. "I was sure of stopping them."
The memory of his movement replayed in her mind. Efficient. Controlled. Terrifyingly competent. He had not hesitated. Not for a second.
"You could have killed them," she said.
"Yes."
The honesty sent a chill through her.
"Does that bother you?" he asked.
Lucia considered the question carefully. "It frightens me how capable you are. It reassures me that you used it to protect my child."
Dominic nodded. "That is fair."
They stood in silence for a moment longer. The city hummed faintly beyond the walls, unaware of the violence narrowly avoided.
"This changes things," Lucia said.
"Yes."
"I will not live like this," she continued. "Waiting for the next knock. The next message."
"I would not ask you to," Dominic replied.
She turned on him. "Then what is your solution?"
"To end it," he said simply.
Lucia laughed, sharp and humorless. "You think this ends cleanly."
"I think it ends decisively," Dominic replied. "There is a difference."
Her mind raced, already mapping consequences. "If you retaliate openly, you escalate."
"I will not do it openly."
"And if someone gets hurt."
Dominic held her gaze. "They already tried to hurt your son."
The words landed like a blade. Lucia looked away, pressing her fingers to her temple.
"This is exactly why I did not want you involved," she said. "Your world solves problems with force."
"And yours solves them with endurance," Dominic said. "Endurance has limits."
She exhaled slowly. He was not wrong. That truth angered her more than anything else.
"What happens after?" she asked quietly. "After you end it."
"After," Dominic said, "you and Eli disappear from this level of attention. You go back to your work. Your life."
"And you," Lucia said.
"I remain what I am," he replied. "Useful. Dangerous. A distraction."
She looked at him then, really looked. He seemed older somehow. Not weakened. Sharpened by responsibility he had never carried before.
"You are doing this for him," she said. "Not for me."
"Yes," Dominic said without hesitation.
"And if protecting him costs you."
"That is the price," he said.
Lucia felt something shift in her chest. Not forgiveness. Not trust. Recognition.
"You do not get to buy absolution," she said.
"I am not trying to," Dominic replied. "I am paying a debt."
The words echoed in the quiet room.
Lucia walked to the window and looked out at the sleeping city. Somewhere out there, men were deciding how much her life was worth. Somewhere else, Dominic was deciding how much damage he was willing to do to stop them.
Neither option sat easily with her.
"I want rules," she said finally.
Dominic turned. "Name them."
"No unnecessary violence," she said. "No using my son as justification for settling old scores. No lies."
Dominic considered. "I can agree to the first two. The third will be difficult."
"Then you will try," Lucia said.
He nodded. "I will try."
That was the most honest promise he could make.
A small sound came from the bedroom. Lucia moved instantly, checking on Eli. He had kicked the blankets off, face flushed, breathing uneven.
She knelt and brushed her hand over his forehead. Warm, but not feverish. Just adrenaline wearing off.
"You are safe," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
When she returned to the living room, Dominic was standing by the door, jacket back on.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To finish this," he said.
Her heart stuttered. "Tonight."
"Yes."
"You could wait."
"I will not," Dominic replied. "Fear grows in the dark. I would rather end it before dawn."
Lucia stepped closer. "If you die."
Dominic met her gaze steadily. "I will not."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the only one I have."
She swallowed, then nodded once. "Then do it cleanly."
"I always do."
He hesitated at the door. "Stay here. Do not leave until I come back or until sunrise, whichever comes first."
"And if you do not come back."
Dominic paused. "Then you will do what you have always done."
"What is that?"
"Survive," he said.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Lucia stood alone in the quiet apartment, the weight of everything pressing down on her at once. She hated that she needed him. Hated that the world had forced her into this corner again.
She sat on the couch and waited.
Minutes stretched into an hour. Every sound made her tense. She checked the locks twice. She checked on Eli again. He slept more deeply now, exhaustion finally claiming him.
Her phone buzzed once.
Handled.
No details. No reassurance.
She exhaled a breath she felt like she had been holding all night.
Another message followed.
They will not come near you again.
Lucia closed her eyes briefly.
When Dominic returned just before dawn, there was blood on his knuckles and something darker in his eyes. He looked exhausted but resolved.
"It is done," he said.
Lucia nodded. "Good."
Neither of them spoke of what that meant.
Outside, the first light of morning crept over the city, pale and fragile.
For the first time since the knock at the door, Lucia allowed herself to sit down and feel the aftermath crash over her.
They had crossed another line together.
Whatever came next, there would be no pretending this was temporary.
The world had declared war.
And she would not lose.