Chapter 6 - The Gathering Storm at the Gates
Back at the estate, Hunter knew nothing of the dark currents swirling around her.
For the first time in her life, she was living in a world of absolute, insulated luxury. The nursery had its own private bathroom with a sunken marble tub, a wardrobe filled with soft cashmere sweaters and comfortable loungewear provided by Lorenzo’s orders, and a view of the Atlantic Ocean that stretched out endlessly to the horizon.
Little Leo was thriving.
He had gained six ounces in four days. His skin had lost its pale, sickly cast, and his dark, intelligent eyes now followed Hunter around the room whenever she moved.
Around 2:00 PM, the heavy oak door opened, and Lorenzo entered. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes deeper than before, but there was a strange, grim satisfaction in his expression.
“How is he?” Lorenzo asked, walking straight to the crib.
“He’s sleeping,” Hunter whispered, smiling softly. “He drank four ounces twenty minutes ago. He’s putting on weight, Mr. Rossi. You can feel it when you hold him.”
Lorenzo reached down, gently brushing the back of his finger against his son’s cheek. Leo stirred slightly, letting out a tiny sigh before settling back into deep sleep.
“He has your eyes,” Hunter blurted out before she could stop herself.
Lorenzo froze. He slowly pulled his hand back and looked up at her. “My wife had dark eyes. Sophia’s eyes were like coal.”
“I didn't mean his color,” Hunter corrected quickly, her cheeks flushing red. “I meant... the expression. When he looks at something, he doesn't blink. He stares like he’s trying to figure out how the world works. My father used to look at car engines that way before he took them apart.”
A faint, ghostly shadow of a smile touched the corner of Lorenzo’s mouth—the first time Hunter had ever seen him look human.
“My father taught me how to take apart engines in a garage in South Boston when I was eight years old,” Lorenzo said quietly. “He told me that if you understand how a machine breaks, you understand how to control it.”
“Do you think people are like machines, Mr. Rossi?” Hunter asked, her courage surprising even herself.
Lorenzo looked at her for a long moment, the warmth in his face vanishing behind the iron curtain of his reputation.
“No, Hunter,” he said softly. “Machines don't bleed when you break them.”
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Before Hunter could reply, a sudden, sharp alarm blared through the mansion.
It wasn't the internal fire alarm. It was the perimeter security klaxon—the deep, rhythmic foghorn sound that meant the outer gates had been breached.
