“WHY HAVE YOU NEVER TOLD ME SHE IS OUR DAUGHTER?” THE MAFIA BOSS DROPPED TO HIS KNEES BEFORE MY THREE-YEAR-OLD—THEN HE PULLED A FADED HOSPITAL BRACELET FROM HIS POCKET AND PROVED HE HAD KNOWN MY SECRET ALL ALONG

Time slowed to a terrifying crawl.

The black barrel of Vincent Romano’s assault rifle was perfectly aligned with my three-year-old daughter. Lily stood frozen behind the armchair, clutching her stuffed rabbit, Bun, to her chest. Her large, dark eyes—Elena’s eyes—were wide with uncomprehending terror.

“Put the gun down, Vincent,” Marco’s voice sliced through the tension from inside the suite. He stepped into view, his suppressed pistol aimed directly at the space between Vincent’s eyes. “If you pull that trigger, you’re dead before the casing hits the floor.”

Vincent didn't blink. He didn't even look at Marco. His cruel smile only widened.

“I might die, Marco,” Vincent rasped, his voice dripping with malice. “But Alessandro’s bloodline dies with me. I’d call that a victory.”

“Don’t!” I screamed, throwing myself sideways to block his line of sight.

I stood directly in front of the barrel, shielding the iron doorway with my body. My heart was hammering against my ribs so violently I thought it might shatter. I held the heavy leather ledger tightly against my chest.

“Let them go, Vincent,” I pleaded, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the absolute panic threatening to consume me. “You want the ledger. I want my daughter safe. We make a trade. Right here.”

Vincent slowly lowered the barrel of the rifle so it was pointed at my stomach instead of the room. He tilted his head, studying me like a predator analyzing wounded prey.

“A housemaid negotiating for the Moretti empire,” Vincent chuckled darkly. “Alessandro truly is a fool. Hand me the book, girl. Then step aside so my men can sweep the room for my whore of a daughter.”

“Isabella isn't here,” I said, my chin held high. “She’s gone. You’ve lost her, and you’ve lost the element of surprise. Alessandro’s men have locked down the perimeter. You’re trapped inside this house.”

“I’m never trapped,” Vincent sneered. He held out his massive, calloused hand. “The book. Now.”

I took a slow, deep breath. I knew that the moment I handed over the ledger, the only leverage keeping us alive would be gone. Vincent would shoot me, shoot Marco, and take Lily to use against Alessandro.

I tightened my grip on the leather binding.

“No,” a deep, bloodied voice echoed from the bottom of the narrow stairwell.

Everyone froze.

Alessandro Moretti stepped out of the shadows and began walking up the wooden stairs.

He looked like a man who had walked through hell. His charcoal shirt was torn and soaked with blood—some his, mostly others’. He held a heavy combat shotgun in his right hand, resting it casually against his shoulder. His face was a mask of cold, concentrated wrath.

Behind him, I saw the bodies of two Romano soldiers sprawled on the landing below. Alessandro had fought his way through the entire house to get to us.

Vincent’s two guards immediately pivoted, aiming their weapons down the stairs at Alessandro.

Alessandro didn't even flinch. He kept walking up, step by measured step, until he was standing just three steps below Vincent on the landing.

“Moretti,” Vincent snarled, stepping back slightly, unnerved by the sheer, terrifying calm radiating from Alessandro. “Tell your maid to hand over the ledger. If you want to keep the bastard child alive, you will surrender the estate to me tonight.”

Alessandro looked past Vincent. His dark eyes met mine.

For a split second, the violence in him vanished. He looked at me with a profound, agonizing love. He saw that I had stayed. He saw that I was standing in front of the gun to protect our child.

Then, his gaze flicked back to Vincent.

“You’re a dinosaur, Vincent,” Alessandro said quietly. His voice was smooth, deadly, and entirely devoid of fear. “You think power is holding a gun to a woman and a child. You think a leather book from twenty years ago is what keeps you alive.”

Alessandro reached into his pocket with his free hand.

He pulled out a sleek, modern smartphone.

“You spent the last hour shooting up my house looking for Isabella and that ledger,” Alessandro said, tapping the screen once. “While you were distracted, Marco’s cyber team successfully decrypted the offshore accounts listed in that book. Five minutes ago, I authorized a mass transfer.”

Vincent’s face went completely slack. “What are you talking about?”

“I just wired every single dollar from your hidden Cayman accounts to a federal seized-asset fund,” Alessandro said, his lips curling into a ruthless smile. “And I emailed the unredacted blackmail files to the heads of the five Commission families. You have no money, Vincent. You have no allies. You are a dead man standing on my staircase.”

“You’re bluffing!” Vincent roared, a spittle of panic flying from his lips. He raised the rifle, pointing it directly at Alessandro’s chest. “You’re bluffing to save the girl!”

Suddenly, the distinct, shrill ringing of a satellite phone echoed in the stairwell.

It was coming from Vincent’s coat pocket.

Vincent hesitated. He kept the rifle aimed at Alessandro with one hand while awkwardly pulling the phone from his pocket with the other. He glanced at the caller ID.

The blood drained completely from Vincent’s face. It was the head of the Commission. The files had been received.

Alessandro racked the shotgun with a deafening CH-CHAK.

“Drop the weapon, Vincent,” Alessandro commanded, his voice echoing like thunder. “Or I will paint the walls with you.”

Vincent dropped the phone. It shattered on the wooden stairs. He looked at Alessandro, then at me, his chest heaving like a cornered animal. He knew it was over. His empire was gone.

But a cornered animal is when a predator is most dangerous.

With a scream of pure, insane rage, Vincent didn't shoot Alessandro. He swung the rifle wildly toward the open doorway, aiming blindly into the suite where Lily was hiding.

BANG.

The gunshot was deafening in the confined space.

“Lily!” I screamed, dropping the ledger and lunging backward into the room.

I hit the floor hard, scrambling toward the armchair.

Lily was sitting on the floor, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands covering her ears. She was unhurt.

But resting on the floor beside her was her stuffed rabbit, Bun. The bullet had torn clean through the toy, scattering white cotton stuffing across the Persian rug.

Down in the stairwell, Marco and Alessandro moved simultaneously.

Marco fired his suppressed pistol, catching one of the guards in the shoulder. Alessandro swung the heavy wooden stock of his shotgun like a baseball bat, slamming it directly into Vincent’s jaw with a sickening crunch.

Vincent collapsed heavily onto the stairs, unconscious before he even hit the wood. The remaining guard dropped his weapon and threw his hands in the air, instantly surrendering.

The gunfire stopped. The heavy, ringing silence rushed back in.

I pulled Lily into my lap, burying my face in her dark hair, sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”

Alessandro dropped the shotgun. He bounded up the remaining stairs, stepping over Vincent’s unconscious body, and rushed into the suite.

He fell to his knees on the rug beside us. He didn't say a word. He just wrapped his massive, bloodied arms around both of us, crushing us to his chest. His heart was pounding so hard I could feel it against my own ribs. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling shaking breaths.

“I’ve got you,” Alessandro whispered fiercely, his tears mixing with the blood on his cheek. “I’ve got you, Rosa. It’s over. You’re safe.”

We sat there on the floor of his mother’s sanctuary, the three of us tangled together, finally a family.

But as I pulled back slightly to look at Alessandro’s face, my eyes caught something gleaming in the torn stuffing of Lily’s rabbit.

It wasn't cotton.

I reached out and pulled the torn fabric apart. Nestled deep inside the toy, hidden there for God knows how long, was a small, flashing red electronic device.

A GPS tracker.

My blood ran cold. “Alessandro…” I breathed, holding the blinking device up in my shaking palm.

Alessandro stared at it. The relief vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, calculating dread.

Vincent Romano hadn't been the one watching us in the park.

“Marco,” Alessandro called out softly, his voice echoing in the dead silence of the room. “Come here.”