**“PUT THAT DIRTY LITTLE THING IN THE TRASH, EMILY!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 28-YEAR-OLD MAID FOR SAVING A CHILD’S OLD MITTEN—BUT WHEN HIS SON’S NAME CAME UP, THE BOSS GRABBED THE TABLE AND ASKED, “WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN TELLING MY BOY?”**

The heavy metal cylinder connected with a sickening, hollow crack.

Vanessa didn't even have time to scream. The impact caught her squarely on the cheekbone, snapping her head back violently. The suppressed pistol flew from her manicured hand, clattering uselessly across the hardwood floor.

She crumpled like a ragdoll, hitting the ground hard and lying completely still.

I stood in the closet doorway, my chest heaving, the heavy fire extinguisher trembling in my hands. I couldn't believe what I had just done.

"Mom?" Henry whimpered from the dark corner of the closet, shrinking back.

He had never called me Mom before. The word hit me like a physical blow, a sudden, fierce reminder of exactly what I was protecting.

"Stay there, Henry," I gasped, dropping the extinguisher.

I scrambled out of the closet and dove for the suppressed pistol resting near the sofa. My hands shook so badly I fumbled the cold metal, but I managed to grip it tightly, pointing it directly at Vanessa’s unmoving form.

Blood was pooling on the floor beneath her head. I hadn't killed her, but she was deeply unconscious.

I looked toward the shattered front door. Vanessa had said the guards outside were bought. They would be coming in any second when they realized she hadn't returned.

I had to move.

I grabbed Henry’s hand, hauling him out of the closet.

"We have to go, baby," I whispered frantically, pulling him toward the back of the house.

"Where are we going?" Henry cried quietly, terrified of the woman bleeding on the floor.

"Back into the tunnel," I said.

We reached the basement door, threw it open, and hurried down the wooden steps. I punched the code Luca had used into the keypad on the heavy steel door hiding the Prohibition-era tunnel.

It hissed open.

I pushed Henry inside and pulled the heavy door shut behind us, locking the deadbolt from the inside.

We were plunged into pitch-black, suffocating darkness.

"Emily, I can't see," Henry whimpered, his small hand gripping mine like a vise.

"It's okay, Henry. I have my phone," I said, pulling my cell phone from my pocket and turning on the flashlight app.

The weak beam cut through the dusty, damp air of the stone tunnel. It was a three-mile walk back to the Moretti estate. Three miles underground, with a corrupt police force hunting me above, and bought mercenaries likely hunting me below.

"We just have to keep walking straight," I told him, forcing a brave smile I didn't feel.

We walked for what felt like hours. The air grew colder, smelling of wet earth and old brick. Henry didn't complain, but I could feel him shivering. I took off my cardigan and wrapped it around his small shoulders.

Suddenly, a sound echoed from the darkness ahead of us.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Someone was walking toward us in the tunnel. Heavy, deliberate footsteps hitting the stone floor.

I froze, turning off the phone flashlight instantly. We were plunged back into total blackness.

I pulled Henry against the damp tunnel wall, wrapping my arms around him, holding my breath. I raised the heavy, suppressed pistol, aiming it blindly into the dark.

The footsteps grew louder.

A beam of light swept across the tunnel walls, bouncing erratically as the person approached.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my finger trembling on the trigger. I was a maid. I didn't know how to shoot. I didn't want to kill anyone.

"Emily?" a rough, pained voice called out softly into the dark.

My heart stopped.

I clicked my phone flashlight back on, aiming it toward the voice.

Standing ten feet away, leaning heavily against the stone wall, was Marco.

He looked terrible. His shirt was soaked in dried blood from where Luca had shot him in the shoulder two days ago. He looked pale, exhausted, and completely defeated.

He raised his hands slowly, shielding his eyes from my light. He didn't have a weapon.

"Don't shoot, Emily," Marco rasped, coughing weakly. "I'm alone."

I kept the gun pointed directly at his chest.

"You betrayed him, Marco," I said, my voice shaking with anger and fear. "You tried to kill Luca. You helped them target Henry."

"I know," Marco whispered, his shoulders slumping. "And I deserve whatever bullet you put in me. But I didn't come to hurt you."

"Then why are you here?" I demanded.

Marco took a slow, agonizing breath.

"Because Luca is walking into a trap," Marco said grimly. "And I'm the only one who can stop it."

I frowned, not lowering the gun. "Luca left two days ago. Where is he?"

"He's at the Falcone compound," Marco revealed, the words chilling me to the bone. "When the police raided the estate and found the planted evidence, Luca knew Vanessa was trying to frame you to start a war. He knew the only way to clear your name and protect Henry was to force Don Falcone to hand over the original surveillance tapes proving Vanessa bought the poison."

"Luca went to the Falcone compound alone?" I gasped.

"He took Silvio and a dozen men," Marco corrected. "But they don't know it's a trap. Don Falcone isn't at the compound. He evacuated yesterday. The compound is rigged with C4 explosives. The moment Luca steps inside the main house, Falcone is going to detonate the entire block."

"Why are you telling me this?" I cried. "You sold us out to protect your family!"

Marco looked down at the dirty stone floor, a tear slipping down his hardened, scarred face.

"Because Falcone lied," Marco choked out, his voice breaking completely. "I did everything he asked. I betrayed my best friend. And Falcone still killed my wife."

The raw, agonizing grief in his voice was undeniable. Marco wasn't a traitor anymore. He was a broken man with nothing left to lose.

"He sent me a picture this morning," Marco wept quietly. "He killed her because I failed to kill Luca in the kitchen. He still has my daughters. He said if I don't finish Luca tonight, my girls are next."

I lowered the gun slightly, the tragedy of the situation overwhelming my fear.

"So you're going to warn Luca?" I asked softly.

"I'm going to save him," Marco said, a dark, terrifying resolve hardening in his eyes. "I know the detonation frequency Falcone uses for his explosives. I can jam the signal. But I need to get into the Falcone compound's security hub to do it."

Marco looked at me, his eyes pleading.

"I need your help, Emily. I'm bleeding out. I can't drive. I can't fight through the guards alone."

"I can't leave Henry," I said immediately, pulling the boy tighter against me.

"You don't have to," Marco said, pointing back the way he had come. "The tunnel forks a mile ahead. One path goes back to the Moretti estate. The other goes directly to a secure, neutral-ground bank vault that Luca owns. You can lock Henry inside the vault. He'll be perfectly safe."

Marco took a painful step forward.

"Please, Emily. Luca saved your life. He saved the kid's life. If we don't go right now, Luca burns to death in ten minutes."

I looked at Henry. He was staring up at me, his big eyes wide and trusting.

"Mom," Henry whispered. "Dad promised he'd come back."

I swallowed the massive lump of terror in my throat. I had spent my life running from confrontation. I had scrubbed floors to stay invisible.

But I wasn't going to let Henry lose his father.