CHAPTER THREE:- NOWHERE TO RUN

The gunfire started before Amara could even process her next move.

The Romano family wasn’t waiting.

Glass shattered as bullets tore through the windows, sending the men in the room scrambling for cover. Leonardo barely flinched. Instead, he grabbed Amara by the waist and pulled her down behind his massive oak desk, shielding her with his body.

Her breath hitched at the sudden closeness, but there was no time to focus on that—not when the room was turning into a war zone.

“Get to the safe house!” one of Leonardo’s men shouted.

“No,” Leonardo said, voice calm as he pulled out another gun from the drawer. “We finish this NOW.”

Amara clenched her jaw. Of course, he wouldn’t run. Of course, he would *fight*. That was the thing about Leonardo DeLuca—he wasn’t just a king in this world, he was a *god*. And gods didn’t flee.

She stole a glance at him. His expression was unreadable, his grip steady as he fired back at their attackers. His men were already returning fire, turning the once-elegant office into a battleground.

And yet, in the middle of it all, his focus shifted.

To HER.

“You’re scared,” he murmured, eyes locking onto hers even as chaos erupted around them.

Amara swallowed. “I’m PISSED.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Good.”

Before she could react, he reached for her, fingers brushing against the curve of her jaw. “Stay close to me.”

A part of her wanted to shove him away, to remind him that she wasn’t his possession. But the other part?

The part that had spent two years under his rule, the part that had learned to survive in *his* world?

That part knew one undeniable truth—Leonardo DeLuca was the only reason she was still breathing.

The gunfire slowed. Shouts echoed from outside.

Then—silence.

Amara tensed. Silence was never good.

Leonardo seemed to sense it too. He stood, pulling her up with him, his grip firm around her wrist. “Stay behind me,” he ordered.

She almost laughed. *As if she had a choice.*

The doors burst open.

A man stepped inside, casually adjusting his cufflinks. He was tall, lean, with an air of arrogance that sent alarms through Amara’s body. She knew that face.

DANTE ROMANO.

The heir to the Romano empire. The man who had spent years waiting for an opportunity to take down Leonardo.

And now, he had walked right into Leonardo’s den.

“You’ve gotten sloppy, DeLuca,” Dante mused, stepping over one of the fallen bodies. “I expected better.”

Leonardo exhaled, almost bored. “I expected MORE men. If you wanted me dead, you should have tried harder.”

Dante chuckled. “Oh, I didn’t come here to kill you.” His gaze flickered to Amara.

NO.

Her stomach twisted.

Leonardo noticed. His grip on her tightened.

Dante smirked. “I came for HER.”

The words hit harder than any bullet.

The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating. Amara’s pulse pounded in her ears as she forced herself to stand still, to not *react*.

Because if there was one thing she had learned in this world, it was that fear was weakness.

And weakness got you killed.

Leonardo tilted his head, studying Dante with that same cold amusement he always wore. But Amara knew better.

He wasn’t amused.

He was *furious*.

“You think you can take what’s mine?” Leonardo asked, his voice eerily calm.

Dante’s smirk widened. “I think you don’t have a choice.”

The air turned electric.

Something was happening. Something BIG.

And Amara was at the center of it.

Before she could move, Dante pulled something from his pocket—a small black USB drive. He held it up, letting the light catch it.

Leonardo *froze*.

Amara’s stomach dropped.

Whatever was on that drive—it was *bad*.

Dante leaned in slightly, his smirk never fading. “You let her go, DeLuca, and this little problem disappears. You keep her? And *everything* burns.”

A challenge.

A test.

Leonardo was a man who played chess with people’s lives, who controlled every move on the board.

But now?

Now, he was TRAPPED.

And for the first time—Amara realized something.

She wasn’t just a piece on the board.

She was the GAME.

---