A Fragile Thread

Chapter 14: Problems

POV: Luca

The drive back was silent, but my mind was anything but.

The Russians knew about Emilia.

That changed everything.

I gripped the wheel tighter, jaw locked as I ran through every possible scenario. There were only a few ways they could've found out. Someone talked. Someone followed us. Or—worst-case scenario—they'd known longer than we realized and had just been waiting to make their move.

I didn't like any of those options.

Nico sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, eyes locked on the road. "We need to reinforce security. Now."

"I know." My voice was clipped.

"We should've expected this," Matteo murmured from the back, his usual calm tinged with frustration. "We took in a missing girl with no explanation. It was only a matter of time before someone started asking questions."

"She's our sister," I snapped, my grip tightening on the wheel. "We weren't just going to leave her there."

"I'm not saying we should have," Matteo said evenly. "I'm saying we weren't prepared for what came next. And now, we're playing defense."

I hated that he was right.

Defense wasn't how I liked to operate.

I glanced at Nico. "Get someone on our contacts in Russia. I want to know exactly who's asking about her and how much they know."

Nico nodded, already pulling out his phone.

Raffaele's voice crackled through the Bluetooth. "Just checking in, fratelli. You guys alive?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "Any problems on your end?"

There was a slight pause before Raffaele answered, voice a little too casual. "Define problems."

My stomach dropped. "Raffaele."

He sighed. "Emilia's fever spiked again. She's awake, but she's out of it. Matteo, I think you're going to want to check her when you get back."

Matteo sat forward instantly. "How high?"

"Not dangerously high, but it's not great. She's sweating, shaking a little." Raffaele's voice was quieter now. "She asked for you, Teo."

Matteo inhaled sharply. "We're five minutes out."

I pressed harder on the gas.

We didn't have time for this.

We had Russians sniffing around, an infection that wasn't healing properly, and now Emilia was getting worse.

Something had to give.

POV: Emilia

I was floating.

Or maybe sinking.

Everything felt heavy, and my skin burned like fire and ice at the same time. My head was thick with fog, my limbs unmovable.

I was in my bed. I was safe.

But my body didn't feel safe.

The fever had wrapped itself around me, pulling me in and out of sleep, making everything blur together. I thought I heard voices—Raffaele's gentle hum, a door closing somewhere—but they felt far away, like echoes bouncing off the edges of my mind.

I hated this feeling.

I hated feeling weak.

The door opened, and I forced my heavy eyelids to lift.