THE NIGHT I WOKE A SLEEPING EMPIRE

The world dissolved into smoke, heat, and falling steel.

The blast wave threw me forward. I hit the concrete hard, wrapping my body completely around Sofia to shield her from the rain of debris. Chunks of plaster and burning wood crashed around us, but my back took the brunt of it. My size—the very thing I had been taught to hate—was an impenetrable fortress for the little girl clinging to my neck.

"Auntie Claret!" Sofia screamed over the roar of the flames.

"I've got you," I coughed, forcing myself up onto my hands and knees. The air was thick with toxic black smoke. The sprinklers kicked on, raining muddy water down onto the slaughterhouse floor.

Through the chaos, I heard gunfire. The guards were scrambling, firing blindly into the smoke in panic.

"Claret!" Vincent’s voice cut through the din. He appeared through the smoke, his face smeared with soot, his white shirt ruined. He grabbed my arm, helping me to my feet. "The main exit is blocked by the fire. We have to go through the meat lockers!"

"My mother!" I panicked, looking up at the catwalk.

The metal stairs had collapsed. But my mother was already moving, sliding down a heavy chain hoist with the agility of a woman half her age. She hit the ground running, her rifle slung over her back.

"Move!" my mother yelled, her eyes locking onto mine for the first time in my life. "I didn't survive thirty years to burn to death in a slaughterhouse!"

We sprinted toward the heavy, insulated doors of the cold storage lockers. Vincent threw his weight against the frozen handle, hauling the door open. We all piled inside, the biting cold a sudden, shocking contrast to the inferno behind us.

Vincent slammed the door shut, cutting off the roar of the fire.

We stood in the dim blue light of the freezer, surrounded by hanging sides of beef, our breaths pluming in the freezing air.

"Is everyone okay?" I asked, checking Sofia over frantically. She was dirty and terrified, but unharmed.

"I'm fine," my mother said. She walked over to me, her eyes sweeping over my face. Slowly, she reached out and touched my cheek. Her hand was calloused, shaking slightly. "You look just like Katarina."

Tears pricked my eyes. "Why didn't you come back for me?"

"I tried," she whispered, her tough exterior finally cracking. "But Salvatore had eyes on you. He thought you were just a waitress, a nobody. If I made contact, if I showed him you were my daughter, he would have killed you. I had to let you believe I was dead to keep you safe. Katarina understood. It was the only way."

"She was right," Vincent said softly from the door. He was holding his side, his face pale. The exertion had torn his bandage open.

My mother looked at Vincent, her eyes narrowing. "You're the Russo boy. The one who spared me."

"I did what I had to do," Vincent said. "And now, I'm going to make sure this family never hurts yours again."

A loud, metallic banging echoed through the freezer door.

"Open up!" a voice muffled by the thick insulation yelled. "Open the door, or we burn you out!"

It was Beatrice. She had survived the blast and corralled the remaining loyalists.

"They've trapped us," my mother said, un-slinging her rifle. "There's no back exit to these lockers."

"Yes, there is," Vincent said, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. "This is my father's private facility. He used this freezer to move contraband. There's a drainage grate in the floor that leads directly to the river tunnels."

He stumbled toward the back of the locker, moving aside a heavy pallet to reveal a rusted iron grate.

"Help me lift it," he grunted.

I handed Sofia to my mother and rushed to help him. We gripped the iron bars. I planted my feet, channeling every ounce of strength I had, and heaved. With a screech of rusted metal, the grate pulled free, revealing a dark, sloping concrete tunnel that smelled of river water.

"Go," Vincent said, pushing my mother and Sofia toward the hole.

"What about you?" I asked, grabbing his arm.

"I have to hold the door," Vincent said, pulling his gun. "If I don't, Beatrice will shoot us in the back as we climb down."

"I am not leaving you!" I shouted.

"Claret, you have to!" Vincent pleaded, his eyes desperate. "You are the head of the family now. You have to protect Sofia. Protect your mother. Please. Let me do this one good thing."

The heavy metal door of the freezer groaned as Beatrice’s men began ramming it from the outside.

"Vincent, no," I cried, tears freezing on my cheeks.

He stepped forward and kissed me. It was fierce, desperate, and tasted of ash and blood.

"I love you, Claret," he whispered against my lips. "Now, go."

He shoved me toward the grate. My mother caught my arm, pulling me into the dark tunnel just as the freezer door blew open.

Gunfire erupted above us.

We slid down the concrete chute, plunging into the freezing waters of the Chicago River. We surfaced in the darkness, the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance.