THE MAFIA BOSS SAW THE MAID’S HIDDEN SCARS—THEN THE MAN WHO HURT HER WALKED IN

"You cannot go."

Vincent’s voice was a jagged blade scraping across stone. He stood in the armory room, blocking the heavy steel doorway, his towering silhouette blocking out the light.

"My daughter is dying, Vincent!" Elena screamed at him, tears streaming freely down her face, her eyes blazing with a feral, unstoppable fury that matched his own. "Look at her! Look at the monitors!"

Across the room, Dr. Rossi was administering oxygen to Lily on a portable gurney, his face grim as the heart monitor beeped with an erratic, slowing rhythm.

"She has thirty minutes left, Donati," the doctor said quietly, not looking up. "Her organs are beginning to fail. If we don't have the specific chemical antidote, her heart will stop before 1:00 AM."

Vincent grabbed Elena by the shoulders, his grip tight, almost bruising. "Dante will not give you the antidote, Elena! He is a psychopath! He survived a bomb that melted half his face. He wants you there so he can slaughter you in front of me to break my soul! The moment you walk into those catacombs, you are dead!"

"Then I will die!" Elena yelled into his face, pounding her fists against his chest. "I would die a thousand times if it buys Lily one more breath! You don't understand, Vincent! You have an empire! You have an army! I have *nothing*! Lily is my entire life! She is the only reason I didn't hang myself when Marcus was breaking my bones!"

Vincent stared at her, his hazel eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The Chicago kingpin, the man who controlled millions, who held the power of life and death over a city, looked entirely shattered.

"You have me," Vincent whispered, his voice cracking down the middle. "You have me, Elena. I love you. Do you hear me? I didn't know what my heart was for until you walked into this house. If I lose you... I burn this whole world down."

Elena’s expression softened, a heartbreaking, tender sorrow washing over her features. She reached up, placing her palms against his rough, stubbled cheeks, pulling his face down to hers.

"Then let me save our daughter, Vincent," she whispered softly, kissing his lips with a sweetness that tasted of salt, iron, and infinite love. "Trust me."

While Vincent was distracted by the sheer intensity of her kiss, Elena’s hand slipped down to his tactical belt, her fingers quietly clicking the release latch on his backup Beretta, slipping the cold steel into the hidden pocket of her woolen coat.

She pulled back, looking into his eyes. "Marco found the micro-film. Here." She pressed the broken silver locket into his hand. "Give Dante the ledger from the perimeter. Draw his snipers. Give me the opening to reach the antidote."

Vincent looked at the locket, his tactical mind calculating the odds in seconds. "We breach from the east tunnel. I will take his head myself."

"Go," Elena nodded.

Vincent turned to bark orders at Marco and the strike team, his back turned for five seconds.

Five seconds was all she needed.

Elena slipped out through the private elevator in the medical bay, sprinting through the underground garage. She bypassed the guards, hot-wired the unmarked black sedan Vincent kept for emergencies—a skill Marcus had forced her to learn years ago—and slammed her foot on the accelerator.

The garage doors shattered as she plowed through the wooden barricade, speeding into the blinding Chicago blizzard.

She drove toward the South Side ruins, the clock on the dashboard glowing red: