**“DON'T YOU DARE GIVE HER THAT CHAIR, HANNAH! BEING PREGNANT DOESN'T MEAN SHE GETS SPECIAL TREATMENT!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 26-YEAR-OLD MAID FOR HELPING HIS SEVEN-MONTHS-PREGNANT SISTER SIT DOWN—BUT WHEN THE YOUNG WOMAN WHISPERED, “LUCA, I THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T WANT MY BABY IN YOUR FAMILY,” HE SLOWLY PUT DOWN HIS GLASS.**

The gunfire outside the heavy steel door was deafening, a relentless, terrifying cacophony of automatic weapons and the sharp, singular cracks of Vanessa’s suppressed pistol.

I pressed my hands over my ears, squeezing my eyes shut. Elena huddled against me, burying her face in my shoulder, shaking violently.

Luca stood perfectly still, his back pressed against the concrete wall near the door, his own weapon drawn, counting the shots.

He wasn't waiting for Vanessa to win. He knew she couldn't.

He was using her as a human shield to buy time.

The harsh reality of his tactical decision made my stomach churn, but looking at Elena’s swollen stomach, I understood. In his world, survival wasn't pretty. It was calculated.

The gunfire in the hallway abruptly ceased, replaced by the heavy, thudding sounds of boots hitting the concrete floor and muffled shouting in Russian.

"They got her," Luca whispered, his jaw clenching.

He looked at me, his dark eyes intense and focused. "Hannah, the bookshelf behind you. Push it."

I frowned, looking at the small, metal shelving unit holding old cleaning supplies against the back wall. "Push it?"

"Push it hard," Luca commanded.

I didn't argue. I grabbed the edge of the metal shelf and shoved with all my weight. It grated loudly against the concrete floor, sliding aside to reveal a small, dark, square opening in the wall, barely large enough for a person to crawl through.

"An escape tunnel?" Elena gasped, hope flaring in her eyes.

"A ventilation shaft," Luca corrected quickly. "It leads up to the carriage house behind the main estate. It’s narrow, and it’s going to be tight, but you both have to go right now."

"I’m not leaving you, Luca!" Elena cried, grabbing his arm. "They’ll kill you!"

"I’m not dying today, sweetheart," Luca promised, offering her a fleeting, fierce smile. "But I can't fight them if I’m worried about you getting caught in the crossfire. Go. Now."

He turned to me. "Hannah, you lead. When you get to the carriage house, there’s a black SUV parked inside. The keys are in the visor. Drive my sister to the safe house in Wisconsin. Do not stop for anyone."

"I will," I swore, my voice trembling but resolute.

I dropped to my knees and crawled into the dark, dusty shaft. The air was stale and smelled of rust. I reached back, helping Elena carefully maneuver her pregnant belly through the opening.

Just as Elena’s legs disappeared into the shaft, a deafening BOOM shook the interrogation room.

I looked back through the opening.

The heavy steel door had been breached by a breaching charge. Smoke poured into the room, followed immediately by four heavily armed men in black tactical gear.

Luca didn't hide. He stood in the center of the room, raising his hands slowly, dropping his weapon to the floor.

"Luca!" Elena screamed from behind me in the shaft.

"Keep moving!" Luca roared back at us, never taking his eyes off the armed men.

The leader of the Russian squad stepped forward, kicking Luca’s gun away. He raised his radio. "We have the Moretti boss. The room is otherwise clear."

He didn't notice the shelving unit pulled away from the wall. The smoke from the breaching charge was obscuring the back of the room.

I didn't wait for them to look closer. I grabbed the metal shelf from the inside and pulled it hard, sliding it back into place, sealing the opening and plunging us into total darkness.

"We have to go, Elena," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "We have to get to the car."

We crawled through the narrow, suffocating darkness for what felt like an eternity. The sounds of the battle raging in the mansion faded away, replaced by our own ragged breathing and the scraping of our knees against the metal ductwork.

Finally, I saw a faint sliver of moonlight ahead.

I pushed against the metal grate at the end of the shaft. It gave way easily, tumbling out onto the wooden floor of the carriage house.

I climbed out, gasping for fresh air, and helped Elena out behind me.

The carriage house was dark and quiet, smelling of old leather and gasoline. True to Luca’s word, a sleek, black armored SUV sat parked in the center of the room.

I ran to the driver's side door, threw it open, and pulled the keys from behind the sun visor.

"Get in the back, Elena," I ordered, my hands shaking as I jammed the key into the ignition. "Keep your head down."

The massive engine roared to life. I hit the garage door opener on the console, and the heavy wooden doors rolled up, revealing the rainy, chaotic night.

I slammed the car into gear and sped out of the carriage house, bypassing the main driveway and tearing across the manicured lawns toward the rear service gates.

"Hannah, wait!" Elena suddenly screamed from the back seat.

I slammed on the brakes, the heavy SUV sliding on the wet grass. "What? What is it?!"

Elena was pointing out the window toward the main mansion.

The back terrace of the estate was illuminated by harsh floodlights. Standing on the stone patio, surrounded by a dozen armed Russian guards, was Dmitri Volkov.

And kneeling on the wet stone in front of him, his hands zip-tied behind his back, was Luca.

"They’re going to execute him," Elena sobbed, clawing at the door handle. "I have to go back!"

"No!" I yelled, reaching back and grabbing her arm to stop her from opening the door. "If you go out there, they’ll kill you both! Luca told us to run!"

"He’s my brother, Hannah!" Elena wept, fighting against my grip. "He’s the only family I have left!"

I stared at the scene unfolding on the terrace. Dmitri Volkov was holding a silver handgun, pointing it directly at the back of Luca’s head. He was talking, likely gloating about his victory, savoring the destruction of the Moretti empire.

I looked at the heavy, armored SUV I was driving. I looked at the steering wheel.

I wasn't a mob boss. I wasn't a killer. I was a housemaid who had spent eleven months polishing the very floors they were fighting on.

But I looked at the pregnant woman crying in my back seat, the woman who had begged me not to lose my job for her just hours ago.

"Hold on," I said, my voice dropping to a low, terrifying calm.

I let go of Elena’s arm, gripped the steering wheel with both hands, and slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

The armored SUV surged forward like a missile, tearing across the lawn directly toward the stone terrace.

The Russian guards didn't notice the dark vehicle approaching through the rain until it was too late.

I didn't hit the brakes.

I drove the three-ton armored SUV straight up the shallow stone steps of the terrace, crashing violently through the expensive patio furniture, aiming directly for the cluster of guards surrounding Dmitri Volkov.

The guards scattered in sheer, unadulterated panic. Two of them weren't fast enough, glancing off the heavy steel bumper of the SUV and tumbling into the darkness.

I slammed on the brakes just inches from where Luca was kneeling, throwing the vehicle into park.

"Get in!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, throwing the passenger door open.

Luca didn't hesitate. Despite his zip-tied hands, he threw himself into the passenger seat, kicking the heavy armored door shut behind him.

Before Dmitri Volkov could even raise his weapon to fire, I slammed the car in reverse, tearing back off the terrace and spinning the SUV around on the wet grass.

Bullets began pinging against the bulletproof glass as the surviving guards opened fire, but the heavy armor held.

I floored the accelerator, crashing through the wooden service gates and speeding out onto the dark, slick streets of Chicago, leaving the burning mansion and the furious Russian mob boss behind us.

For five minutes, the only sound in the car was our ragged, terrified breathing.

Luca leaned his head back against the seat, laughing a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

"You just rammed an armored car into a Russian hit squad," Luca said, turning to look at me, a profound, awestruck respect in his eyes. "You’re a terrible housemaid, Hannah."

"I’m quitting tomorrow," I replied, my hands shaking violently on the steering wheel.

"You’re not quitting," Luca smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Because tomorrow, we’re taking my house back."

He looked back at Elena, who was crying tears of pure relief. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"I’m okay," Elena sobbed. "But Luca... where is David? You said he was alive."

The relief instantly vanished from the car, replaced by a cold, heavy dread.

Luca looked at the dashboard, his jaw clenching tight.

"Dmitri Volkov doesn't have David," Luca said softly. "He thinks I killed him."

"Then who sent the ransom note?" I asked, confused. "Who has David?"

Luca reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, blood-stained burner phone. He had taken it from Vanessa before she left the interrogation room.

"I checked her call log while she was distracting them," Luca whispered, his voice trembling with a horrifying realization. "She didn't hire the hitman, Elena. She was just delivering the ransom note for him."

"Who hired him?" Elena asked, terrified.