I WAS POURING CHAMPAGNE WHEN LUCA MORETTI’S SISTER TOOK THE MICROPHONE AND SAID TO HIS LATE BROTHER’S WIDO

Three minutes.

The words echoed in the concrete bunker like a death sentence.

Luca didn’t hesitate. He dropped Siena onto the floor like a piece of trash and turned to us.

“The vault!” Luca shouted, pointing to the massive steel door of the safe room. “Get inside, now!”

I helped Rachel to her feet, supporting her weight on her uninjured side. Ethan was crying silently, holding tightly to his mother’s dress. We scrambled toward the heavy steel door.

Luca punched a six-digit code into the keypad. The mechanical locks groaned, and the massive door clicked open.

I pushed Rachel and Ethan inside. The room was small, lined with survival supplies and monitors displaying the security cameras from upstairs.

I turned back to look at Luca.

He wasn’t following us.

He was walking back toward Siena, who was still gasping on the floor.

“Luca, what are you doing?!” I screamed over the blaring sound of an emergency alarm that had just triggered.

Luca grabbed Siena by the arm and dragged her toward the vault. She kicked and thrashed, her survival instinct finally kicking in.

“I’m not letting you die easy,” Luca snarled, throwing her roughly into the safe room. She hit the floor, scrambling backward into a corner.

Luca stepped inside and slammed his hand against the interior locking mechanism.

The heavy steel door began to close.

It was agonizingly slow. The metal ground against the tracks, shutting out the dim light of the sub-basement.

Just as the door was about to seal, the monitors on the wall flickered to life.

The screen showing the grand foyer upstairs flashed bright white.

Then, the floor beneath our feet violently heaved.

The sound came a second later—a deafening, bone-rattling roar that felt like the earth itself was splitting open. The blast wave hit the bunker, shaking the thick concrete walls. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling as the heavy steel door finally clicked shut, plunging us into total darkness before the emergency backup lights flickered on.

We were sealed in.

But the explosion had been massive.

On the security monitors, the beautiful Chicago mansion was gone.

The cameras that hadn't been destroyed showed only fire and twisted metal. The ballroom where we had stood twenty minutes ago was a crater.

Marcus had kept his promise. He had burned the Moretti empire to the ground.

Rachel slumped against the wall, clutching her bleeding shoulder. Ethan buried his face in my chest, trembling like a leaf.

Luca stood silently in front of the monitors, staring at the ruins of his childhood home.

In the corner, Siena began to laugh.

It was a hysterical, broken sound.

“He did it,” she giggled, pulling her knees to her chest. “Marcus actually did it. You have nothing left, Luca. Your money is gone, your house is gone, your capos are dead. You’re the king of the ashes.”

Luca slowly turned around.

The expression on his face made Siena’s laughter die instantly.

He didn’t look defeated.

He looked liberated.

“You’re right, Siena,” Luca said softly. “The house is gone. The money is gone. The empire is ash.”

He walked over to Rachel and knelt beside her. He gently checked the crude bandage I had made from a torn piece of my apron.

“Which means,” Luca continued, looking up at his sister-in-law with a terrifying clarity, “I no longer have to play by the rules of the commission. I no longer have to be the civilized businessman.”

He stood up and looked directly at the camera monitor showing the burning wreckage above.

“Marcus thinks he won because he took my house,” Luca whispered. “But he forgot the only rule my father ever taught me.”

Siena swallowed hard. “What rule?”

Luca turned to her, his eyes pitch black.

“You never trap a Moretti underground unless you’re sure he’s dead.”

Luca walked over to a metal cabinet on the wall. He opened it.

Inside wasn't just survival food.

It was a massive arsenal of high-grade military weaponry.

He pulled out a heavy tactical vest and began strapping it over his ruined tuxedo shirt. He loaded a sleek assault rifle, the metallic clicks echoing loudly in the small room.

“Emma,” Luca said, not looking back.

“Yes, sir,” I answered, my voice remarkably steady.

“There is a tunnel behind that back wall. It leads to the city sewer lines, two blocks away. Take Rachel and Ethan. Go to the safehouse in Gold Coast. Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

“Where are you going?” Rachel asked, her voice filled with dread.

Luca racked the slide of the rifle.