SHE ASKED TO EAT ALONE,” THE MAFIA BOSS’S SISTER SAID WHEN HE SAW ME HELPING HIS 76-YEAR-OLD MOTHER BACK INTO HER OWN BIRTHDAY DINNER

“Evacuate!” Dominic roared, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “Everybody out, right now!”

Chaos erupted.

Carlo’s men grabbed Mrs. Moretti and Aunt Rosa in her wheelchair, carrying the terrified women bodily toward the front doors.

“Ninety seconds!” Carlo yelled, checking his watch as he sprinted behind them. “Move! Move!”

Dominic grabbed Mia in his left arm, holding her tight against his chest. He reached for me with his right hand, pulling me toward the side door leading to the gardens.

“Don't stop running!” he shouted over the blaring sound of the estate’s emergency alarms.

We burst through the side doors into the freezing night air.

My legs burned. My lungs screamed for oxygen. But I didn't stop. I ran with Dominic across the manicured lawns, past the fountain, sprinting toward the heavy iron gates of the property.

“Keep going!” Dominic urged, pushing me ahead of him as we cleared the tree line.

We reached the front gates just as Carlo’s black SUVs roared to life.

“Get in!” Carlo screamed from the open door of an armored Suburban.

I dove into the backseat. Dominic threw Mia in beside me and jumped in right after us.

“Drive!” Dominic yelled.

The SUV tires squealed against the asphalt, tearing out onto the main road.

We were three hundred yards away when the sky lit up.

A massive fireball erupted from the center of the Moretti estate. The shockwave hit the SUV a second later, violently rocking the heavy vehicle. The explosion ripped through the historic mansion, blowing the roof completely off and shattering every window in a two-mile radius.

Flames shot a hundred feet into the air, painting the dark sky a terrifying, violent orange.

Mia buried her face in my chest, sobbing in terror. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her small ears flat against my apron to muffle the deafening roar of the destruction.

Dominic stared out the back window of the speeding SUV. The empire his father had built was entirely reduced to ash and rubble.

He didn't look angry. He looked relieved.

“It’s over,” he whispered.

He turned around in his seat and looked at his mother. Mrs. Moretti was sitting in the front, holding Aunt Rosa’s hand. Both women were covered in dust, but they were breathing.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Dominic asked softly.

Mrs. Moretti looked back at him. Her silver hair was ruined, her beautiful navy dress torn.

But she smiled. A real, genuine smile.

“I have my son. I have my sister. And I have my granddaughter,” she said, tears shining in her eyes. “I am perfectly fine.”

Dominic let out a long breath. He reached over and gently stroked Mia’s dark curls.

The little girl peeked out from my apron. She looked at the giant, tattooed man.

“Are we safe now, Daddy?” she asked softly.

Dominic’s eyes filled with tears. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“Yes, sweetheart. Nobody will ever hurt you again. I promise.”

We drove to the downtown hospital in silence. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, leaving me entirely exhausted. My hands shook as we pulled up to the emergency room entrance.

I jumped out of the SUV before it even fully stopped.

I sprinted through the sliding glass doors, ignoring the security guard yelling at me to slow down.

“My mother!” I gasped to the nurse at the front desk. “Margaret Parker. Where is she?”

The nurse typed quickly on her keyboard. “Room 4B. Down the hall to the left.”

I ran down the sterile white corridor. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would crack my ribs.

I burst through the door of Room 4B.

My mother was sitting up in the hospital bed. She looked frail, her gray hair messy, a small bruise on her cheek.

But she was alive.

“Mom!” I cried, rushing to the bed and throwing my arms around her.

“Elena, sweetheart,” she murmured, her confused eyes slowly focusing on my face. “Why are you crying? I’m right here.”

I held her so tightly I was terrified I might break her. I buried my face in her shoulder, sobbing out eleven months of stress, fear, and exhaustion.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “I’m so sorry I wasn't there.”

“Hush now,” my mother said, gently stroking my hair just like she did when I was a little girl. “A very nice man brought me here. He said you were a hero tonight.”

I froze. I pulled back and looked at her.

“What nice man?” I asked.

“The one standing right behind you.”

I turned around.

Standing in the doorway of the hospital room was a tall man in a dark suit. He held a silver cane in his right hand. He wore a silver watch.

And on his neck, glowing under the fluorescent hospital lights, was a thick, jagged silver scar.

Vincent smiled at me.