THE ESTATE OF SHADOWS

The air inside the vault felt charged with a sudden, terrifying electricity.

Burn the empire to the ground.

Rico Moretti, the undisputed king of the Brooklyn waterfront, was standing in his own safe room, calmly declaring war on his entire life.

"Rico, you can't just hand over a federal dossier," I said, my voice trembling as I held Leo tightly against my hip. "If the rest of the syndicate finds out you’re turning state's evidence, they won't just come after you. They’ll come after Leo."

"They are already coming," Rico said, his jaw locked in grim determination. "Carmine wasn't working alone. He controlled the finances, but he needed muscle to intercept Elena’s car that night. He used the Valenti family."

My blood ran cold. Even living in a tiny, run-down apartment, everyone in Brooklyn knew the Valenti name. They were the rival faction, ruthless and hungry for control of the docks.

"If Carmine is dead, the Valentis know the truce is broken," Rico continued, turning to face Dante, who had just stepped back into the vault. "Dante, what’s our perimeter status?"

Dante’s massive face was pale. He held a tactical radio in his hand. "Boss. The outer gates just went dark. Cameras are cut. I’ve lost comms with the front gate detail."

Rico didn't flinch. He walked over to a hidden panel in the wall, punching in a rapid sequence of numbers. A heavy gun safe slid open, revealing an arsenal of suppressed weapons, tactical vests, and spare magazines.

"They’re moving faster than I anticipated," Rico muttered, tossing a heavy kevlar vest to Dante. "They know Carmine failed. They want to wipe out the Moretti bloodline tonight before I can leverage the FBI files."

Rico turned to me. He pulled a smaller, lightweight kevlar vest from the safe and held it out.

"Put this on," Rico ordered.

"I don't know how to shoot a gun," I panicked, taking the heavy vest.

"I’m not giving you a gun," Rico said, his dark eyes locking onto mine with absolute, unyielding focus. "Your only job tonight is to keep Leo alive. Do you understand me, Clara? I don't care what happens to me. I don't care what happens to this house. You do not let them take my son."

I swallowed the lump of terror lodged in my throat. I looked at Leo, who was watching his father with wide, silent eyes.

"I won't let them touch him," I promised.

"Good." Rico grabbed a heavy assault rifle, chambering a round with a deafening clack. "Dante, you take point. We use the underground wine cellar tunnel. It leads to the old prohibition exit near the cliffs. The armored SUV is parked there."

"Got it, Boss," Dante grunted, checking his sidearm.

The estate above us suddenly echoed with the terrifying sound of shattered glass and splintering wood. The Valentis had breached the front doors.

"Move!" Rico shouted.

Dante pushed the heavy steel vault door open, sweeping the hallway with his weapon. The house was plunged into darkness, the emergency backup lights casting eerie red shadows against the marble walls.

I grabbed Leo, pressing his face into my shoulder so he wouldn't see the violence, and ran behind Dante. Rico took the rear, his rifle raised, covering our backs as we sprinted toward the kitchen.

Gunfire erupted from the grand staircase.

Pop-pop-pop!

Plaster exploded from the walls around us. Dante returned fire, his massive pistol booming in the confined space. A man in a dark tactical suit tumbled down the stairs, crashing into a priceless antique table.

"Down the stairs! Now!" Rico yelled, shoving me toward the basement door.

I stumbled down the wooden steps, my heart hammering against my ribs. The wine cellar was vast and freezing cold, lined with hundreds of dusty bottles.

Dante ran to the back wall, shoving a massive oak wine rack aside with a groan of effort. Behind it was a heavy iron door, rusted and ancient.

"It's locked!" Dante shouted, yanking on the handle.

"Shoot the lock!" Rico ordered from the top of the stairs, firing bursts of suppressing fire back into the kitchen to keep the Valenti hitmen at bay.

Dante aimed his pistol and blew the heavy iron padlock apart. He kicked the door open, revealing a dark, damp stone tunnel that smelled of earth and ocean salt.

"Go, Clara!" Dante yelled, shoving me into the tunnel.

I ran blindly into the darkness, clutching Leo so tightly my arms ached. The tunnel was narrow, the stone walls scraping against my shoulders. Behind me, I heard Rico and Dante slip into the tunnel, pulling the heavy iron door shut and bolting it from the inside just as a barrage of bullets rained against the metal.

We ran in the pitch black for what felt like miles, guided only by the small tactical flashlight mounted on Rico's rifle.

Finally, the air grew colder, and the distinct smell of the ocean hit my lungs.

We reached the end of the tunnel. Another heavy iron door stood between us and the cliffs outside.

Dante pushed the door open, stepping out into the freezing night air.

"Clear," Dante whispered.

We stepped out onto a rocky precipice overlooking the crashing waves of the Atlantic. Hidden beneath a camouflage tarp was a massive, matte-black armored SUV.

"Get in the back," Rico ordered, opening the heavy ballistic door for me.

I scrambled inside with Leo. Dante climbed into the driver's seat, firing up the massive engine with a low, aggressive growl.

Rico stood outside the open door for a second, looking back at the dark tunnel, then at me.

"We need the FBI dossier," Rico said, his voice tense. "Carmine had it. It’s the only way to grant us federal immunity and burn the Valentis. If we run without it, we're fugitives for the rest of our lives."

"Where is it?" I asked.

"Carmine’s private warehouse in Red Hook," Rico said, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door shut. "Dante, drive."

The armored SUV tore out of the hidden alcove, speeding down the dark coastal highway toward the industrial shipping yards of Brooklyn.

Thirty minutes later, we pulled up to a massive, abandoned warehouse near the docks. The area was completely deserted, shrouded in heavy coastal fog.

"Stay in the car, Clara," Rico ordered, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Lock the doors. Dante and I will clear the warehouse, grab the dossier from Carmine's safe, and we leave for the FBI field office in Manhattan."

"Be careful," I whispered.

Rico paused. He reached back, his rough, tattooed hand gently touching my cheek.

"I'm coming back, Clara," Rico said softly. "I promise."

Rico and Dante slipped out of the SUV, disappearing into the thick fog toward the warehouse entrance.

I sat in the dark, shivering in the cold leather seat, holding Leo. The silence was agonizing. Every minute felt like an hour.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled it out, frowning. Only one person had this number.

My brother, Evan.

I swiped the screen to answer. "Evan? I can't talk right now, I'm—"

"Hello, Clara," a cold, smooth voice purred through the speaker.

My blood froze.

It wasn't Evan.

It was a voice I had just heard less than an hour ago. A voice belonging to a man I thought was dead on the playroom floor.

"Carmine," I breathed, pure terror clutching my heart.

"You kick quite hard for a waitress, Clara," Carmine chuckled, the sound wet and ragged. "But it takes more than a bruised knee to kill a syndicate boss."

"How do you have my brother's phone?" I demanded, tears springing to my eyes.

"I have your brother, Clara," Carmine corrected smoothly. "He's sitting right next to me in a very uncomfortable chair. And if you ever want to see him breathing again, you are going to get out of that armored truck, walk into the warehouse, and bring me the boy."

"No," I sobbed, clutching Leo tighter.

"You have two minutes, Clara," Carmine said coldly. "Bring me Leo, or I put a bullet in Evan's head. The choice is yours."