The Ambush

**Ace's POV:**

"Green light."

Ice moved before Ace finished saying the words—crossing the café in four strides, his hand already reaching for Melissa Grant's wrist. The blonde woman didn't flinch. Didn't scream. Just smiled as Ice's fingers closed around her arm like a steel trap.

"Hello, Ice," she said. Pleasant. Like they were old friends.

Through his earpiece, Ace heard two sounds: Ice's sharp exhale of surprise, and Sofia's soft humming as she nursed Jaxon three miles away. The contrast made his jaw clench. One world of violence. One world of peace. Him trying to exist in both.

"She knew my name," Ice said, his voice tight.

Melissa's smile widened. She looked directly at the surveillance point where Ace crouched, as if she could see through walls and bullets and lies. As if she'd been expecting this all along.

"Ace," Sofia whispered in his ear. Not a question. A warning.

He felt it too. The wrongness crawling up his spine. This wasn't a capture. This was an invitation.

---

Ten minutes later, Melissa sat zip-tied in the back of the SUV, blood trickling from her lip where Ice had hit her. She was still smiling.

"You're wasting time," she said. "Precious, precious time."

Ace pressed his gun to her temple. "Where's Cardinal?"

"Closer than you think. Farther than you can reach." She laughed—high, sharp, wrong. "Tell me, Ace. How's your son? Still so small. So fragile. So easy to—"

He backhanded her. Hard enough to snap her head sideways. "Talk."

"I am talking. You're just not listening." She spat blood. "Cardinal said you'd be predictable. Said you'd come for me while he went for what really matters. Looks like he was right."

Cold spread through Ace's chest. "What did you say?"

"Your mansion. Right now. He's there. With her. With him." Melissa's eyes gleamed. "Did you know babies that young can't regulate their body temperature? Stress can cause seizures. Heart failure. So many fragile little—"

Ace grabbed his phone. Dialed Sofia. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Voicemail.

*No. No, no, no.*

He tried again. Same result.

"Ice." His voice came out dead. Hollow. "Call the mansion."

Ice pulled out his phone. Dialed. His face went white. "Not connecting. Security app—" He tapped frantically. "Boss. All cameras are offline."

The world tilted. Ace looked at Melissa. At her smug, bloody smile. At the knowledge in her eyes that she'd won.

"Kill her," he said.

Ice put a bullet between her eyes without hesitation.

"Terry!" Ace was already moving, throwing open the SUV door. "Get us home. Now. Break every fucking traffic law. I don't care if you—"

His phone buzzed. Text message. Unknown number. A photo loaded. Sofia's Range Rover. Empty. Driver's door open. Blood on the seat. Below it: *Too late, brother.*

Brother?

"Drive," Ace whispered. Then louder: "DRIVE!"

---

**Sofia's POV - Forty-Five Minutes Earlier:**

The lights went out at 1:47 PM. Sofia knew because she'd just checked her phone, smiling at a text from Ace: *Operation underway. Home in two hours. Love you both.*

Then darkness. Total. Complete. Even the emergency lights failed.

Jaxon whimpered against her chest. "Shh, baby. It's okay." She stood from the rocking chair, one hand supporting his head, the other reaching for—

Glass shattered downstairs. Multiple windows. Coordinated. Then gunshots.

Rodriguez's voice: "Breach! We have—" Cut off by automatic weapons fire. Chen screaming. More gunshots. Then terrible, terrible silence.

Sofia's training kicked in—the hours Ace had made her practice, the scenarios he'd drilled into her head. *If something happens, you don't fight. You run. You hide. You protect Jaxon.*

She ran. Down the hallway. Away from the stairs. Toward the panic room hidden behind their closet. Jaxon crying now, loud and terrified, and she wanted to comfort him but she needed both hands free, needed to—

Her phone. She fumbled for it, tried calling Ace. *Call failed.* Signal jammed.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Professional. Precise. Military cadence.

"Second floor," a male voice said. Calm. American. "Locate the woman and child. Cardinal wants them breathing."

Cardinal. The name sent ice through her veins.

She made it to the bedroom. Locked the door. Grabbed the gun from the nightstand—the compact Glock Ace insisted she keep loaded, always loaded, *just in case baby just in case*.

Jaxon screamed.

"I know, I know." Her voice shook. "Mommy's scared too."

The bedroom door exploded. Not kicked. Blown. Breaching charge. These weren't amateurs.

Two men rushed in. Black tactical gear. Masks. No identifying marks. Sofia raised the gun. Aimed center mass like Ace taught her.

And fired.

The first man went down. Headshot. Lucky or skill, she didn't know, didn't care. The second dove right. Rolled. Came up shooting.

Sofia felt the bullet pass her cheek—so close it burned. She fired again. Again. Again. Emptying the clip like Ace showed her. *You don't stop until they stop moving.*

The second man dropped.

Silence. Sofia's ears rang. Jaxon's screams sounded distant, muffled, like he was underwater. She'd killed them. Two men. Dead. Because of her.

No time to process. No time to break down. More footsteps. More voices.

"Alpha team down. Target is armed. Repeat—target is armed and dangerous."

Dangerous. Her. Sofia Diaz who'd never thrown a punch before meeting Ace.

She reloaded—muscle memory from countless hours at the range—and moved toward the panic room. Almost there. Ten more feet. Five.

A hand grabbed her ankle. One of the "dead" men. Not dead. Wearing body armor.

She fell. Hard. Jaxon flew from her arms.

*No.*

Time slowed. She watched her son tumble through the air, his tiny body so fragile, and she couldn't breathe couldn't think could only—

Someone caught him. A third man. Appeared from nowhere. Caught Jaxon mid-fall with surprising gentleness.

"Got him," the man said into his radio. "Package secured."

Sofia lunged. Gun lost somewhere. Didn't matter. Only Jaxon mattered. The man who'd grabbed her ankle punched her. Temple. Stars exploded. She tasted blood.

"Sedate her," someone ordered. A sting in her neck. Warmth spreading. Vision blurring.

The last thing she saw was Jaxon—screaming, reaching for her—being carried away by a stranger.

Then nothing.

---

**Ace's POV:**

The mansion was a slaughterhouse. Ace counted six bodies in the first thirty seconds. Three guards. Three unknowns in tactical gear. All dead. All cold.

"SOFIA!" His voice echoed through empty rooms. "SOFIA!"

No answer.

Ice moved ahead, clearing rooms with professional efficiency. "Boss. Living room. You need to see this."

Ace followed. Rodriguez lay by the stairs. Throat slit. Eyes frozen in permanent surprise. Chen near the kitchen. Multiple gunshot wounds. Defensive position. He'd died fighting.

And Terry—

No. Not Terry. Ace's mind rejected what his eyes saw. Terry sprawled by the front door. Shot in the back. Execution style. But Terry was supposed to be at the gate. Terry was supposed to be—

"He let them in," Ice said quietly. "Inside job."

The betrayal hit like a physical blow. Terry. Three years of loyalty. Trusted with Sofia's life. Jaxon's life. Bought. Or threatened. Didn't matter which.

Ace took the stairs two at a time. The bedroom door hung in splinters. Breaching charge. Professional work.

Inside: two more bodies. Tactical gear. Headshots. Sofia's work. Pride and terror warred in his chest. She'd fought. Killed. Survived long enough to—

Blood on the floor. Fresh. Still spreading. And beside it, her phone. Screen cracked. Seventeen missed calls from him.

He picked it up with shaking hands. A text message loaded: *Unknown: She's with me now. Come find us, brother. If you dare.*

Brother? What the fuck—

His phone rang. Unknown number. He answered.

"Hello, Ace." Male voice. Young. Confident. Familiar in a way that made Ace's skin crawl. "You're probably confused right now."

"Who is this?"

"Your brother. Well, half-brother. Same father. Different mothers. Kai liked to spread his seed." A pause. "I go by Gabriel now. Gabriel Hernandez. Though our father never acknowledged me. Too busy grooming his legitimate heir."

Ace's hand tightened on the phone. "If you hurt them—"

"I won't. Not unless you force me to. You see, Sofia and I have... history. And Jaxon?" Gabriel's voice softened. "He's family. The nephew I never knew I had. I just want to meet him. Properly."

"Let them go."

"Can't do that. But I can offer you a trade. You for them. Your life for theirs. That's fair, isn't it? What any good father would do."

Ace's mind raced. Calculated. Analyzed escape routes and tactical options and—

"Two hours," Gabriel continued. "Pier 47. Old shipping yard. Come alone. Come unarmed. And maybe—maybe—your family survives this."

"Gabriel—"

"Oh, and Ace? Don't try to trace this call. I'm not an amateur. Unlike poor Melissa." He laughed. "See you soon, brother."

The line went dead.

Ace stood in the ruins of his bedroom, surrounded by blood and bodies and broken promises of safety.

Ice appeared in the doorway. "Boss?"

"Get everyone. Every resource. Every man we have." Ace's voice was ice. "We're going to war."

"What are we dealing with?"

Ace looked at his second-in-command. His friend. His brother in all but blood.

"Family," he said. "We're dealing with family."

And that, he knew, was the most dangerous enemy of all.