“PUT THAT PEN DOWN! HE DOESN’T EVEN REMEMBER HIS OWN SON!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 48-YEAR-OLD NURSE FOR HELPING HIS ELDERLY FATHER SIGN THE FAMILY GUESTBOOK—BUT WHEN THE OLD MAN SCRATCHED THREE WORDS ACROSS THE PAGE, DOMINIC ROMANO STOPPED THE MUSIC. “CELESTE… WHAT IS IN THE BLUE BOTTLE?”

The impact was violently loud, a screech of tearing metal and shattering glass.

Because the SUV was heavily armored, the frame didn’t crush, but the sheer force of the garbage truck flipped our vehicle onto its side.

We skidded across the asphalt of Highway 9 in a shower of sparks, the horrific sound drowning out Lily’s screams.

When the car finally ground to a halt, the world was sideways.

Smoke filled the cabin. I was hanging by my seatbelt, my head throbbing.

“Lily!” I coughed, desperately trying to unbuckle myself.

“I’m okay! Mom, I’m okay!” Lily cried from the back seat. She was bruised but conscious.

I looked toward the back. Salvatore was slumped against the window, a gash on his forehead, but he was breathing. The driver in the front seat, however, was motionless.

Outside, heavy footsteps crunched on the pavement.

“Cut the doors open!” a harsh voice yelled in Russian.

We were trapped.

I managed to hit the release on my seatbelt, falling onto the passenger door. I scrambled to the back, helping Lily untangle Salvatore.

“We have to get out,” I whispered, pulling the old man upward.

Suddenly, a loud, mechanized whirring sound ripped through the air outside. The Russians were using a plasma saw to cut through the reinforced steel hinges of the back doors.

Sparks rained down on the tinted glass.

I desperately searched the cabin for a weapon. Nothing. The driver’s gun was pinned beneath his body.

Then, Salvatore grabbed my wrist.

His eyes were clear, fiercely lucid despite the crash.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, iron antique key. It looked like it belonged to a medieval castle.

“Grace,” Salvatore wheezed, pressing the key into my hand. “The floorboard. Under the mat.”

I didn’t ask questions. I ripped the rubber floor mat away from the side of the car. Beneath it was a small, flush metal panel with an old-fashioned keyhole.

I jammed the iron key in and twisted.

The panel popped open. Inside was a red lever.

The plasma saw outside was halfway through the hinges. We had seconds.

“Pull it!” Salvatore yelled.

I yanked the red lever as hard as I could.

The entire undercarriage of the armored SUV blew outward with a concussive blast.

It wasn’t a bomb—it was an emergency explosive escape hatch, designed for ambushes exactly like this. The metal plate blew off, creating a massive hole in the bottom of the overturned car, directly facing the steep, forested embankment off the side of the highway.

“Go! Go!” I shoved Lily through the opening.

She scrambled out into the dirt. I grabbed Salvatore by the belt of his coat and hauled him out with me, tumbling down the steep, muddy hill just as the Russians kicked the back doors of the SUV open.

“They went out the bottom! Get them!”

Gunfire chewed up the dirt around us as we slid down the embankment, crashing through the heavy brush.

We hit the bottom of a ravine, surrounded by thick, ancient pine trees.

“Keep moving,” I gasped, throwing Salvatore’s arm over my shoulder. Lily took his other arm, and together we dragged the old man deeper into the woods, away from the highway.

We ran until my lungs felt like they were bleeding. We found a shallow cave formed by a massive uprooted tree and huddled inside, completely hidden by the darkness.

Above us, the beams of flashlights swept through the trees. Men were shouting in Russian.

Lily was trembling violently, her face buried in my shoulder.

“Mom, what do we do?” she whispered, tears streaming down her dirty face.

I touched the pearls around my neck. I touched the St. Jude medal.

“We fight,” I said, my voice hardening.

I looked at Salvatore. “Does Dominic know about the escape hatch in that car?”

Salvatore nodded, catching his breath. “He designed it. When the car’s telemetry went offline during the crash, Dominic was alerted. He is coming.”

We just had to survive long enough for him to get here.

I crept to the edge of the uprooted tree. Two Russian mercenaries were walking down the ravine, sweeping the brush with their rifles.

I picked up a heavy, jagged rock from the mud.

I was a nurse. I knew exactly how fragile the human body was. I knew exactly where to strike to drop a man instantly.

I waited until the first mercenary stepped past our hiding spot.

I didn’t hesitate. I lunged out of the darkness and brought the rock down with sickening force against the temple of the first Russian.

He collapsed instantly without a sound.

The second mercenary spun around, raising his rifle.

Before he could pull the trigger, a single, suppressed gunshot echoed through the trees.

The Russian dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, a bullet hole perfectly centered in his chest.

From the shadows of the tree line, Dominic emerged.

He looked like an absolute wraith of vengeance. He was flanked by Julian and twenty heavily armed men.

Dominic didn’t look at the dead men. He ran straight to me, dropping his weapon and pulling me into his chest.

“You’re alive,” he breathed, his whole body shaking as he held me. “I saw the truck. I thought—”

“We’re alive,” I said, burying my face in his neck.

Dominic pulled back, his eyes flashing with a terrifying, violent light. He looked up at the highway, where the rest of the Bratva men were still searching the woods.

“Julian,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a lethal, icy calm. “Take Grace, Lily, and my father to the safehouse. Now.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked, grabbing his hand.