THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED A DEAF WAITER A THIEF—THEN A MAID SIGNED ONE QUESTION, AND THE BOSS SAID, “TRANSLATE HIS ANSWER.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound echoed off the concrete walls of the boiler room, drowning out the hum of the furnace.

Luca didn't hesitate. He didn't panic.

He threw the silver watch into the heavy iron coal chute.

He grabbed Leo by the collar of his shirt, grabbed my arm with his other hand, and hurled us both behind the massive steel water heater.

He threw his own body over ours just as the watch detonated.

BOOM.

The basement shook violently. Dust and chunks of concrete rained down from the ceiling. The heavy iron door of the coal chute was blown completely off its hinges, flying across the room and embedding itself into the opposite wall.

A thick cloud of gray smoke filled the air, choking us.

My ears were ringing. I couldn't hear anything but a high-pitched whine.

I felt Luca’s hands on my shoulders, pulling me up. He was covered in plaster dust, but his dark eyes were clear and focused. He checked Leo, who was coughing but unhurt.

Then, Luca looked toward the center of the room.

The smoke began to clear.

Vanessa was gone.

The explosion had blown out a section of the old basement wall, revealing an old prohibition-era bootlegger tunnel. She had used the blast as a distraction to escape.

“She’s gone,” I coughed, my throat burning.

Luca didn't look at the tunnel. He looked at me.

“She won't get far,” he said. “But your brother is running out of time.”

He pulled his gun from his shoulder holster and checked the magazine.

“The rail yards,” Luca said. “She said her father took him to the rail yards.”

“We have to call the police!” I cried.

“The police belong to Don Bellini,” Luca said bluntly. “If you want your brother back alive, you come with me.”

I didn't argue. I grabbed a heavy metal wrench from Mark’s abandoned toolbox. If I was going to a mafia execution, I wasn't going empty-handed.

Luca handed Leo to the head guard, who had rushed down the stairs after the blast.

“Put the boy in the vault,” Luca ordered. “Lock it from the inside. Do not open it for anyone but me. If I don't come back, call the Commission.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Luca looked at Daniel, who was standing by the stairs, completely untouched by the blast, reading the situation perfectly.

I'm coming with you, Daniel signed to me.

“He says he’s coming,” I told Luca.

Luca looked at the deaf waiter. “Can he shoot?”

I translated. Daniel nodded once, his expression hard.

Luca handed him a spare pistol from the guard. “Let’s go.”

Ten minutes later, Luca’s black armored SUV tore through the midnight streets of Chicago. The rain had started to fall, slicking the roads and reflecting the neon lights of the city.

I sat in the passenger seat, gripping the wrench so hard my knuckles were white.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked softly, staring out the window. “He’s just an HVAC tech. I’m just a maid. You saved your nephew. You don't have to risk your life for us.”

Luca kept his eyes on the road.

“When my brother was murdered five years ago,” Luca said, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engine, “nobody helped him. They all looked the other way. I promised myself I would never be the man who looked away.”

He glanced at me.

“And you aren't just a maid, Anna. You stood up to a cartel princess tonight to protect a boy who couldn't hear. You’re braver than half the men on my payroll.”

A flush of warmth hit my cheeks, despite the terror freezing my veins.

The SUV swerved violently as we pulled into the abandoned South Side rail yards.

Towering stacks of rusted shipping containers created a maze in the dark. Rain lashed against the windshield.

Luca killed the headlights.

He parked behind a rusted boxcar.

“Quiet now,” he whispered.

We slipped out of the vehicle. The rain soaked us instantly.

We crept through the maze of containers. In the distance, near the active train tracks, I saw the headlights of two black sedans.

Four men in suits stood in the rain.

And kneeling in the mud in front of them, his hands tied behind his back, was my brother, Mark.

He was bleeding from a cut above his eye. He was looking at the men, completely confused, unable to hear the threats they were undoubtedly shouting at him.

One of the men—an older, distinguished-looking man with a silver cane—stepped forward.

Don Bellini. Vanessa’s father.

He raised a pistol and aimed it directly at Mark’s head.

I couldn't stop myself. I screamed. “Mark!”

Don Bellini turned.

And in that split second, Luca raised his gun and fired.

He didn't hit Bellini. He shot the pistol right out of the old man’s hand.

The gun spun into the mud.

“Drop them!” Luca roared, stepping out from the shadows.

Bellini’s three guards raised their weapons, but Daniel was already moving. The deaf waiter fired two rapid shots, hitting the dirt directly in front of the guards' feet. It was a warning, but it was enough.

The guards froze.

Luca walked forward, his gun aimed squarely at Don Bellini’s chest.

“It’s over, Bellini,” Luca said over the sound of the rain. “Vanessa talked. The Commission knows you tried to kill my nephew. You’re a dead man walking.”

Don Bellini clutched his bleeding hand. But he didn't look afraid.

He smiled. A cold, terrifying smile.

“You think my daughter tells the truth, Luca?” Bellini laughed. “She’s a liar. She’s always been a liar.”

Bellini looked down at my brother, kneeling in the mud.

“I didn't bring this boy here to frame him,” Bellini said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate, woven silver bracelet.

He threw it into the mud at Luca’s feet.

“I brought him here because of that.”

I stared at the bracelet. My heart stopped.

I recognized it immediately. It belonged to our mother.

Luca looked at the bracelet. Then he looked at Bellini.

“What is this?” Luca demanded.