SECONDS FROM IGNITION

Julian stepped into the dim light of the flashlight, his gun pressed squarely against the back of Silas’s head. He was bleeding heavily from his shoulder, but his grip was iron.

"Hand over the remote," Julian ordered.

Silas chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. He slowly reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small black device with an antenna. He held it up, but didn't hand it over.

"You always were too emotional, Julian," Silas said, not bothering to turn around. "Just like your mother. You built an empire, but you let a little girl become your weakness."

"She’s my daughter," Julian snarled.

"She is leverage!" Silas barked, his calm facade cracking. "Five years ago, I faked my death to let the Feds stop hunting our family. I left you the throne. And what did you do? You started going legitimate. Buying real estate. Pulling out of the ports. You made us weak!"

"I made us legal," Julian fired back. "I broke the cycle. For her."

"There is no breaking the cycle!" Silas turned slowly, ignoring the gun at his head. He looked his nephew up and down. "You think you can just walk away? The Five Families smell blood. They’re coming for our territory. I had to step back in. I bought Marcus. I set the bomb in your car. And when you’re dead, I’ll raise Mia properly. She’ll inherit the throne with an iron fist, not a bleeding heart."

Nora watched in horror. This wasn't just a mob takeover. It was a sick, twisted inheritance. Silas wanted to mold Mia into a monster.

"Give me the remote," Julian repeated, cocking the hammer of his gun.

"Shoot me," Silas challenged, his thumb resting over a large red button on the remote. "You kill me, my thumb depresses. The vest goes off. You kill your own daughter. Checkmate, Julian."

Julian froze. His eyes flicked to Mia, who was sobbing into Nora’s chest. The billionaire’s hand began to shake. The man who had ruthlessly ruled Chicago’s underworld was entirely paralyzed by the love for his child.

"Drop the gun," Silas commanded.

Julian’s arm wavered. Slowly, agonizingly, he lowered the weapon.

"Julian, no!" Nora screamed.

"Good boy," Silas sneered. He raised his own pistol, aiming it at Julian’s chest. "It’s a shame, really. You had such potential."

Nora’s mind raced. Silas held the remote. If he died, his grip tightened, the button pressed, Mia died. But if he lost the signal...

The watch.

Earlier, Nora had noticed the electronic hum from the gold pocket watch Julian had taken from Mia’s bed. It was a tracker, broadcasting a powerful localized signal so Silas’s men could find them in the woods.

Nora reached into Julian’s coat pocket—she had shoved the watch in there when they ran from the dorm. She pulled the heavy gold timepiece out.

"Hey, old man!" Nora yelled.

Silas glanced at her, annoyed.

Nora threw the gold watch as hard as she could into the darkness of the woods.

"What did you do, you stupid girl?" Silas snapped.

"That watch has a tracker broadcasting on a high-frequency band," Nora lied with absolute conviction, her mechanic’s bluff perfect. "It’s jamming the proximity signal to the vest. If it gets too far away... the vest detonates anyway."

Silas hesitated. It was only for a split second, a flicker of doubt crossing the old mobster’s face. He looked toward the bushes where the watch had landed.

That microsecond was all Julian needed.

He didn't shoot Silas. He lunged, closing the gap in a heartbeat. Julian’s fist collided with Silas’s jaw with a sickening crunch. The old man stumbled backward, his pistol firing harmlessly into the mud.

Julian grabbed Silas’s wrist, twisting it violently until the bone snapped. Silas screamed, his hand opening in agony.

The remote fell into the mud.

Nora scrambled forward, diving through the dirt, and snatched the remote before Silas could kick it.

"Turn it off!" Julian roared, wrestling Silas to the ground and pressing his gun to his uncle’s throat.

Nora stared at the device. There were three buttons. Red, Green, and a small toggle switch. She didn't know which one disarmed it. She looked at the vest. The red light was blinking faster.