“Move,” Ricco ordered the teen as he rushed the gunman, keeping his body between the gun and Nicoletta. At the last moment, before the man fired, he hit the ground, sliding along the shadows there with impressive speed. He didn’t even register the wrenching on his body. His adrenaline had kicked in and he was fully focused on disposing of the gunman.

He took the man down with a scissor technique, rolling and toppling him hard without warning. At the same time, he remained wholly committed to securing the weapon first. The man hadn’t aimed at Vittorio or him. He had gone after Nicoletta. He yanked the gun from the man’s hand, continuing the roll, putting him on top. Turning, Ricco fired at the knife wielder as the man stalked Nicoletta. The attacker seemed to fall in slow motion. Ricco couldn’t believe he missed, he’d fired at the heart and he was a marksman, but he squeezed the trigger again, not wanting to take any chances with Nicoletta’s life.

A flash of movement told him he had to keep moving, but it was already too late, the kick taking him on the side of the head, right where he’d been injured a few months earlier. His stomach rolled and bile filled his mouth, his vision blurring, but he managed to fire directly into the man’s gut as his assailant tried to plunge a knife into the back of his skull.

The man staggered back just as Nicoletta screamed a warning. Lucia and Amo both ran outside toward the group of men surrounding Vittorio, who was on the ground. After the initial grunt of pain, his brother hadn’t made a single sound. Three of the attackers turned toward Lucia and Amo. The three held knives and, strangely, rope.

Ricco rolled away from the man he was on, twisting his head to break the neck as he did so. He had to get to his feet. The kick in the head made him sick and dizzy. He realized he couldn’t make it up fast enough so he slid through the shadows on his ass toward Vittorio. Ricco could see four others working his brother over, kicking, punching and stabbing down at him with knives.

As he came out of the tube at Vittorio’s feet, he swept his leg out to take down the four standing over Vittorio. He smelled blood, and to his horror, his brother had an intricately tied rope around his throat and multiple stab wounds on his body. The rage, always present since that day he’d walked into a slaughter, erupted. That dark presence always threatening to swallow him whole – did.

Physically he was a wreck, but his will was made of iron. He covered Vittorio’s body as he took the knife from one man in a blue coat, who stabbed down at his brother’s leg, and shoved the blade through the man’s throat. Ricco took a hard kick to the gut, but moved into it, rather than away, catching the man’s boot, rolling and breaking the man’s leg. The crack was loud and the man shrieked. The demon that was Ricco stabbed him twice in the heart, both times twisting the blade as he dragged it out.

Nicoletta screamed again and threw herself in front of Lucia and Amo, arms stretched out wide to protect her foster parents from the bullets she was certain would come. Lucia’s eyes widened and she gripped Amo hard as Mariko emerged from the shadows, flowing like water, a beautiful, deadly storm, sweeping past the three men aiming weapons at Nicoletta and her family. As she moved past them, she stuck one through the heart with a long hairpin. The second one she sliced across his throat, under his arms and over his thigh. The last one she caught around the neck and wrenched hard. The three men were down in seconds.

Lucia and Amo covered their mouths. Nicoletta spun around and jumped on the back of a man climbing to his feet. He had rolled out of Ricco’s reach and was searching the ground for the gun he’d dropped.

“Call Stefano!” Nicoletta yelled to Lucia. “Call him now, and an ambulance. Hurry, Lucia.”

The attacker slammed himself backward into one of the trees on the Fausti property in an effort to dislodge the teen. She sank her teeth into his neck and bit him, all the while pulling his hair with both hands. Her legs stayed wrapped around his waist, ankles locked at his belt buckle.

Amo ran forward and hit the man with his fist twice, breaking his nose and knocking out teeth as the attacker began to pound his fist into Nicoletta’s leg. Lucia whirled around and ran for the house, rushing to get her cell phone.

The man spat blood at Amo and head-butted him. Amo fell like stone to the ground and lay still. Nicoletta screamed her fury again, and then Mariko was there, gliding by them gracefully, her dagger slicing through arteries before she turned to go to Ricco’s aid. The way she moved was like the wind, one moment gentle and calm, the next a whirling storm of a tornado.

Ricco managed to get to his feet, sparing one more glance at Vittorio. His brother was covered in blood, his face ashen, his eyes wide with shock, but he held on, trying to warn Ricco of the danger behind him. He stayed absolutely still, the rope tightening around his neck with every tiny pull. Ricco knew already that there was another assailant behind him, but the man in front of him had a gun, and that was the most pressing. No one was going to shoot Vittorio or Nicoletta, not if he could help it. Now he had the added complication of Lucia and Amo.

He was on the gunman, using the wrenching shadow to slide past and behind the man. He chopped at the wrist with the edge of his hand and then grasped the head with both hands and broke the neck. Any moment he had expected a bullet to hit him, but when he turned, Mariko had taken the last man down to the ground with a superb kick that nearly took his head off. He dropped like a stone and she was on him, dispatching him in the way riders dispensed justice.

Ricco dropped to his knees beside his brother. He recognized every knot used, and they were intricate. Hojojutsu, the ancient form of tying prisoners. It was an art form, beautiful but deadly. He caught up one of their knives and cut through the ropes just as Stefano burst from a shadow tube followed by Emmanuelle, Taviano and Giovanni.

Mariko crouched down beside Vittorio to examine the numerous wounds. “Most of these cuts on his legs are very shallow, designed to hurt as much as possible without killing him. A couple of the cuts are very deep. They did more damage to him with the rope and the kicks and beatings. He needs to get to the hospital immediately.”

Vittorio stirred as if he might protest, but Stefano dropped down beside him, running his hands over his brother even as his formidable gaze was on Mariko. “You’re a shadow rider.”

She nodded. “But my explanation belongs to Ricco. He’s also injured and needs medical attention.”

In the distance they could hear sirens.

Ricco glared at her. “I’m fine. Concentrate on saving my brother. Emme, get over here. You’re better at this than any of the rest of us. I can’t move. I’m plugging up the deepest hole. Get him to breathe properly.”

“Let me see,” Mariko said gently.

Terrified of letting go of his brother, Ricco shook his head. “Get him breathing right.” Vittorio’s lungs didn’t appear to be working properly.

“They broke his ribs,” Mariko said patiently. “His lung has collapsed.”