**THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS 78-YEAR-OLD MOTHER WALK INTO HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER HOLDING AN EMPTY RED DOG LEASH, HER SLIPPERS SOAKED FROM THE RAIN—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “HE RAN OUT THROUGH THE SIDE GATE,” BEFORE LUCA EVEN ASKED WHERE HIS LATE FATHER'S OLD DOG HAD GONE.**

Vanessa looked completely deranged.

Her expensive red silk engagement gown was ruined, soaked with rain and smeared with mud from the garden. Her flawless makeup was running down her face in dark streaks, and her diamond earrings were gone.

But her grip on the pistol was rock steady.

“Give me the collar, Claire,” Vanessa demanded, her voice shaking with a manic, desperate energy.

I slowly stood up, placing myself between Emily and the gun.

“Vanessa,” I said calmly, keeping my hands visible. “How did you get back in here?”

“I never left!” Vanessa shrieked, her eyes wide and bloodshot. “Luca told his men to throw me out, but when he ran off to the cemetery, they abandoned their posts. I’ve been hiding in the greenhouse for hours!”

She took a step into the room, kicking the door shut behind her.

“I saw you sneak back in through the side gate,” she sneered. “I knew you were coming back for something important. The old woman told Luca I was trying to send her away, didn't she?”

“She told him the truth,” I said coldly.

“The truth!” Vanessa laughed hysterically. “The truth is that my father is dead, my engagement is ruined, and my family’s syndicate is crumbling! And it’s all because of that stupid dog and his collar!”

She aimed the gun directly at my chest.

“Hand over the collar. It’s the only leverage I have left to buy my way out of the city.”

I glanced down at Walter. The old golden retriever was sitting up now, letting out a low, rumbling growl at Vanessa. He remembered her from earlier. He remembered she was the one who tried to put him in a crate.

“The collar is empty, Vanessa,” I lied smoothly, holding up the sliced leather. “I already took what was inside.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Give me whatever you took, then.”

“I can't do that.”

“I will shoot your sister right now!” Vanessa screamed, swinging the gun back toward Emily.

Emily whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Okay! Okay!” I yelled, raising my hands higher. “I’ll give it to you. Just let her go.”

I slowly reached into my jacket pocket. My fingers brushed against the micro-SD cards, but they also found something else.

The brass key attached to the blue ribbon.

It was heavy, solid metal.

“Toss it on the bed,” Vanessa ordered.

I pulled my hand out of my pocket, keeping the object hidden in my fist.

“I said toss it!” Vanessa screamed.

I didn't toss it on the bed.

With all the strength I had, I hurled the heavy brass key directly at Vanessa’s face.

The heavy metal struck her squarely in the forehead.

Vanessa shrieked in pain, stumbling backward, her hands flying to her face.

The gun went off.

The silenced shot pfft past my ear, shattering the mirror on Teresa’s dressing table.

“Run!” I screamed at Emily.

But we didn't have to run.

Because Walter didn't run away from the gunshot.

The thirteen-year-old dog, with a bad hip and cloudy eyes, let out a ferocious bark and launched himself directly at Vanessa.

Seventy pounds of golden retriever slammed into her legs.

Vanessa screamed, losing her balance and crashing hard onto the hardwood floor. The pistol skittered across the room, sliding under the heavy oak bed frame.

Walter stood over her, his teeth bared, barking furiously, pinning her to the floor by the fabric of her ruined dress.

I didn't hesitate.

I grabbed Emily’s hand and sprinted out of the bedroom, slamming the heavy door shut behind us and locking it from the hallway.

Vanessa’s screams and Walter’s barking were muffled behind the thick wood.

“We have to get out of here!” Emily sobbed, dragging me toward the stairs.

“Wait,” I panted, stopping at the top of the staircase. “We can't just leave. The FBI will be here any minute. If they find Vanessa, she’ll tell them we have the ledgers.”

“So what? We give them to the feds!” Emily cried. “We use them to get immunity, just like Dad!”

I looked at my younger sister, realizing she still didn't understand the world we had just been violently dragged into.

“Emily, the feds already gave Dad immunity,” I explained, my voice desperate. “Dad gave them fake documents. If we walk into a federal building with the real ones, they won't give us immunity. They’ll arrest Dad for perjury, and they’ll throw us in a cell for assaulting an agent and fleeing custody.”

Emily’s face fell. “Then what do we do?”

“We do what Teresa did,” I said, pulling the SD cards from my pocket. “We use it as leverage. But not with the FBI.”

I looked down the grand staircase, my mind racing.

“Who are we going to use it against?” Emily asked, terrified.

Before I could answer, the massive front doors of the mansion were kicked open with a deafening crash.

I froze, pulling Emily back into the shadows of the second-floor landing.

It wasn't the FBI.

Six men in dark tactical gear flooded into the foyer. They weren't wearing federal windbreakers. They were wearing black ski masks, holding silenced submachine guns.

And walking in behind them, completely unarmed but exuding a terrifying authority, was Marco Moretti.

He was supposed to be in federal custody.