THE COAT POCKET HELD A ONE-WAY TICKET

Dante flew down the marble staircase, drawing his backup weapon from his ankle holster.

The smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air.

He reached the study. The heavy oak doors were splintered open.

“Harper!” Dante shouted.

No answer.

He swept the room, his gun raised.

Two men in black tactical gear lay dead on the floor.

Standing over them, wiping blood from his mouth, was Rocco.

The massive security chief swayed slightly, fighting the sedatives in his system, holding a smoking pistol.

“Rocco!” Dante ran to him. “Are you hit?”

“No, boss,” Rocco slurred, shaking his head to clear it. “Woke up in the booth. Saw the cameras. I got here just as they kicked the door in.”

“Where are they?” Dante demanded, rushing to the hidden panic room behind the bookshelf.

The reinforced door was scratched, but fully secured.

Dante punched in his thumbprint.

The door hissed open.

Inside, Harper was huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around Sophie, shielding the little girl with her own body.

Sophie was crying quietly, clinging to Harper’s neck.

“Daddy!” Sophie sobbed when she saw him.

Dante dropped to his knees and wrapped them both in a massive hug. He kissed Sophie’s forehead, then looked at Harper.

“You’re safe,” Dante promised fiercely. “Both of you.”

Harper nodded, her face pale.

But Dante noticed something was missing.

“Sophie, where is your rabbit?”

Sophie sniffled. “I dropped it when the bad men started banging on the door. Miss Harper pulled me inside.”

Dante looked out into the study.

The stuffed pink rabbit was lying on the Persian rug.

But it wasn't just a toy anymore.

The stomach seam had been ripped open by one of the dead mercenaries before Rocco shot him.

Dante walked over and picked up the rabbit.

Spilling out of the cotton stuffing was a heavy, antique rosary.

It was made of black onyx beads, with a solid silver cross.

Dante stared at it.

He recognized it instantly. It was the rosary his wife had carried on their wedding day.

Answer one: Julian didn't want Sophie. He wanted the rosary hidden inside her toy.

Open two: Why was a mafia boss willing to start a war over a string of beads?

Dante examined the silver cross.

It felt heavier than it should.

He twisted the bottom of the crucifix. It clicked.

The cross was hollow.

Dante pulled out a tiny, tightly rolled piece of micro-film.

Rocco leaned against the desk, squinting. “What is that, boss?”

“Leverage,” Dante whispered.

He walked over to his desk, placed the micro-film in a digital scanner, and pulled up the images on his secure monitor.

The screen filled with bank records, wire transfers, and names.

But they weren't Julian Thorne’s accounts.

They were the accounts of the Five Families—the supreme mafia council in New York.

“Julian isn't just a rival,” Dante realized, horror dawning on him. “He’s a rat. He’s been stealing from the Commission for a decade. My wife must have found his ledgers while she was his prisoner. She hid the evidence in the rosary and slipped it into Sophie’s toy during a supervised visit.”

If the Commission saw this, Julian Thorne would be dead by morning.

Dante’s phone buzzed again.

Julian.

Dante answered it.

“Your men are dead, Julian,” Dante said coldly.

“I figured,” Julian replied, his voice strained. “But I have something you want, Dante.”

“You have nothing.”

“Look out your front window.”

Dante frowned. He walked to the window and pulled back the heavy curtain.

Parked at the end of the driveway was a black SUV.

Standing in front of the headlights was a woman, bound and gagged, with a gun pressed to her head.