THE MAFIA BOSS’S SECRET VOW AND THE MAID WHO SAVED HIS HEIR

The private airfield on the edge of the city was a desolate stretch of wet tarmac, illuminated only by the harsh glare of halogen floodlights.

I drove one of the estate’s black SUVs, keeping the headlights off as I navigated the perimeter fence. The rain lashed against the windshield, hiding my approach.

I parked behind a stack of rusted shipping containers fifty yards from Hangar 4.

I stepped out into the freezing rain, gripping the heavy, unloaded shotgun. I had no illusions about my fighting skills, but I knew Dante was walking into an ambush. Meredith didn’t just want money; she wanted Dante’s life. She was never going to honor a trade.

I crept along the shadows of the massive metal hangar, the roar of a waiting private jet’s engines drowning out my footsteps.

Through the cracked side door of the hangar, I saw them.

The space was cavernous and brightly lit.

Dante stood in the center of the concrete floor, entirely alone. His black suit was soaked with rain, but his posture was rigid, demanding authority.

Standing thirty feet away was Meredith. Her leg was bandaged where I had stabbed her, and she leaned heavily on Marcus for support. Marcus had an assault rifle strapped across his chest, his finger resting casually near the trigger guard.

In Meredith’s hand was a small, velvet box.

“You actually came alone,” Meredith mocked, her voice echoing over the hum of the jet outside. “The great Dante Costa, brought to heel for a piece of old jewelry.”

“The codes,” Dante said smoothly, holding up a small silver flash drive. “Give me the necklace, and you get the money.”

Meredith laughed. It was a cold, venomous sound.

“You ruined my life, Dante,” she spat, her eyes flashing with pure hatred. “You took my father. You humiliated me tonight in front of the entire syndicate. Do you really think I’m going to let you walk out of here alive?”

She opened the velvet box.

Inside, glittering brilliantly under the harsh hangar lights, was the Costa Diamond necklace. An intricate, breathtaking piece of platinum and diamonds that had been in the family for a century.

Meredith reached her hand out, holding the necklace over a large, industrial plastic barrel marked with toxic warning labels.

“Drop the drive on the floor, Dante,” Meredith ordered. “Or I drop the necklace into the acid right now.”

Dante didn’t flinch. He tossed the silver flash drive onto the concrete. It slid to a halt near Marcus’s boots.

Marcus picked it up, plugging it into a tablet he held. He tapped the screen a few times, his eyes lighting up with greedy satisfaction.

“Codes are verified,” Marcus said, nodding to Meredith. “The three hundred million is transferring to Zurich now.”

Meredith smiled. She looked at Dante, her eyes filled with cruel triumph.

“Thank you, Dante,” she whispered.

She opened her fingers and dropped the necklace.

Dante let out a roar of rage, lunging forward.

The heavy diamond necklace splashed into the vat of acid. Sizzling, noxious smoke instantly plumed into the air. The heirloom was gone, dissolved in seconds.

Marcus raised his assault rifle, aiming directly at Dante’s chest.

“Game over, boss,” Marcus sneered.

I didn’t think. I couldn’t let him die.

I kicked the side door open and stepped into the hangar, leveling the heavy, antique shotgun directly at Marcus’s head.

“Drop it, Marcus!” I screamed, my voice echoing off the corrugated metal walls.

Marcus jumped, spinning toward me. Meredith gasped, stumbling backward on her injured leg.

Dante froze, staring at me in absolute shock. “Jenna, what are you doing here?!”

“I said drop the weapon!” I yelled, stepping fully into the light, my finger resting on the trigger of the empty gun. “The police are two minutes away. I called them from the car. If you shoot him, you don’t make it to the plane.”

Marcus hesitated. He looked at me, a tiny maid holding a massive heirloom weapon, soaked in rain and blood.

He laughed. A deep, ugly sound.

“You’re a terrible liar, Jenna,” Marcus said, raising his rifle to point at me. “That antique hasn’t been loaded since 1980. Dante keeps it as a paperweight.”

My heart stopped. He knew.

“Goodbye, Jenna,” Marcus said, pulling the trigger.

Click.

The assault rifle jammed.

Marcus looked down at his weapon in confusion, frantically pulling the charging handle.

Before he could clear the chamber, a deafening shot rang out.

It didn't come from my gun. And it didn't come from Marcus.

Marcus’s eyes went wide. He dropped the rifle, clutching his stomach as a dark red stain spread rapidly across his white shirt. He collapsed to his knees, then face-first onto the concrete.

I turned around, terrified.

Standing in the shadows of the hangar entrance, holding a smoking, suppressed pistol, was Sarah.

Ava’s mother.

She was pale as a ghost, swaying slightly on her feet, a hospital bandage wrapped tightly around her head. But her hands, gripping the weapon, were perfectly steady.

“You touch my family again,” Sarah rasped, her eyes locked on Meredith, “and I’ll put the next one between your eyes.”

Meredith shrieked in terror. She scrambled backward, abandoning Marcus entirely, and dragged her injured leg toward the hangar exit leading to the tarmac.

“Dante!” Sarah yelled, lowering the gun as her strength finally gave out.

Dante sprinted toward her, catching Sarah just as her knees buckled. He lowered her gently to the floor.

I ran toward the vat of acid. The smoke was still rising. The necklace was gone.

“Dante, I’m so sorry,” I cried, looking into the bubbling plastic drum. “She destroyed it.”

Dante looked up at me from where he was kneeling beside Sarah. He let out a breathless, relieved laugh.

He reached into his wet suit jacket and pulled out a velvet pouch. He tossed it to me.

I caught it, opening the drawstring.

Inside, glittering perfectly in the light, was the real Costa Diamond necklace.

“Meredith stole a cubic zirconia replica I use for public galas,” Dante smiled. “The real one never leaves the estate vault.”

A wave of dizzying relief washed over me.

We heard the whine of the private jet’s engines increasing to a roar outside. Meredith was making her escape.

“Let her go,” Dante said, his eyes resting on Sarah, then on me. “The Swiss authorities are waiting for her on the tarmac in Zurich. The three hundred million transferred into a frozen federal account. She’s walking straight into a cage.”