THE PRICE OF THE GUEST LIST

Nicolo pulled a sleek black handgun from his shoulder holster. He moved with practiced, lethal grace, gesturing for me to stay low behind the tarp-covered vintage car.

"How many do you think are out there?" I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"At least six," Nicolo replied softly. "Bradford wouldn't come back without muscle."

"Sloane set us up," I realized. "She gave us the key. She wanted us to find the ledger so Bradford could corner us here away from your loyal men."

"She underestimated me," Nicolo said.

He didn't look afraid. He looked angry. The discovery of his father's watch had ignited a cold, terrifying fury in him. He checked his magazine, clicked it back into place, and looked at me.

"Stay down, Mara. Do not move unless I tell you to."

Before I could answer, a shotgun blast shattered the carriage house window. Glass rained down on us. I screamed, covering my head as the heavy wooden doors were kicked open.

Three men rushed in, flashlights cutting through the darkness.

Nicolo didn't hesitate. He stepped out from behind the car and fired twice. Two men dropped instantly, crying out in pain. The third dove behind a pile of crates, returning fire. Bullets chewed into the concrete floor inches from my feet.

"Nicolo, they're flanking!" I yelled, seeing the beam of a flashlight moving toward the side door.

Nicolo spun and fired, forcing the man back outside. But we were pinned down. Bradford was shouting orders from the safety of his armored SUV outside.

"Give it up, Russo!" Bradford yelled. "Your father told us you were getting soft! He said you'd burn the family legacy to the ground!"

"My father is a coward!" Nicolo roared back. "He hides behind women and kidnapped children!"

I huddled against the cold tire of the car, gripping the leather ledger to my chest. This book was the only thing keeping my son alive. I couldn't let them take it.

Suddenly, the side door burst open. I braced for a gunshot, but instead, a figure rolled inside, firing rapidly back out into the rain.

It was Dante.

"Boss!" Dante yelled, tossing a spare magazine to Nicolo. "The perimeter is breached. Sloane's men let Bradford's crew through the gates."

"We need to get out of here," Nicolo shouted over the gunfire. "Cover us!"

Dante nodded and laid down a suppressing fire, driving Bradford's men back into the shadows. Nicolo grabbed my hand, yanking me to my feet. "Run, Mara! To the main house!"

We sprinted through the rain, bullets tearing through the air around us. We slipped through the kitchen doors and slammed the heavy deadbolts shut.

We stood in the dark kitchen, gasping for air, dripping wet.

"We need to call the police," I panted. "We have the ledger. We have the proof."

Nicolo shook his head, wiping rain and blood from a shallow cut on his cheek. "The police chief is in that ledger, Mara. He works for my father. If we call them, we die, and your son disappears."

I felt a sob rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I couldn't break down now. Leo needed me.

"Then what do we do?" I asked.

Nicolo looked at the ledger, then at the gold pocket watch in his hand. A dark realization settled over his features.

"My father isn't the mastermind," Nicolo said quietly, the truth finally dawning on him.

"What do you mean? His name is on the accounts. Bradford said—"

"Bradford is an idiot who believes what he's told," Nicolo interrupted. "Look at the watch, Mara. My father never took this off. He believed it was good luck. He wouldn't leave it in a safe."

He opened the watch again and traced the deep scratches on the inside of the lid.

"Sloane didn't keep this as a trophy," Nicolo realized, his voice hollow. "She kept it as proof. My father didn't fake his death to run an empire. Sloane's family faked his death. They have him. He's a prisoner. Sloane has been using his name to command his old loyalists, and bleeding his accounts dry."

Before I could process the magnitude of that reversal, a sharp ringing shattered the silence of the kitchen.

It was the landline on the counter.

Nicolo stared at it. I stepped forward and picked up the receiver. My hand was shaking.

"Hello?" I whispered.