THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS FIANCÉE MAKE ME THROW AWAY A SLICE OF CAKE I’D WRAPPED FOR HIS ELDERLY DRIVER—THEN SHE SAID, “HE'S BEEN SNEAKING FOOD HOME TO HIS WIFE,” BEFORE LUCA EVEN ASKED WHY THE OLD MAN WAS CRYING.** "Put that cake in the trash, Hannah

The flames roared to life with terrifying speed.

The gasoline the men had poured along the baseboards caught instantly, creating a wall of fire between us and the front door. Black smoke began to choke the small living room.

"Hannah! Get Rosie!" Luca shouted over the roar of the fire.

He shoved the copper lockbox and the baby blanket into his coat. I dropped the shotgun and ran to Rosie. The elderly woman was coughing, staring at the flames in childlike terror.

"It's okay, Rosie, I've got you," I coughed, wrapping my arm around her frail waist.

"My blue dress," she cried. "It’s going to get ruined!"

"I'll buy you a hundred blue dresses," Luca promised, grabbing a heavy wool blanket from the armchair and throwing it over her head.

He kicked the back window of the cottage with his heavy leather boot. The glass shattered outward. He hoisted Rosie up and pushed her through the window frame to the safety of the damp grass outside, then grabbed my hand and pulled me through just as the ceiling beams began to groan.

We collapsed onto the lawn, gasping for air.

The cottage—the home Walter had built, the porch he had swung on, the kitchen Rosie remembered—was consumed in an inferno.

Suddenly, tires screeched on the gravel path.

Daniel’s security SUV slammed to a halt. The doors flew open.

Walter stumbled out of the passenger side. He saw the flames, and a sound of pure agony ripped from his throat.

"ROSIE!"

"She's safe, Walter! She's here!" I yelled, waving my arms.

Walter dropped to his knees in the grass, pulling his wife into his chest. He buried his face in her silver hair, weeping uncontrollably. Rosie gently patted his back.

"Don't cry, young man," she whispered gently. "My husband is coming to take me dancing soon."

Walter squeezed his eyes shut, kissing her forehead. "I'm here, my love. I'm right here."

Luca walked over to Daniel. The head of security looked nervous, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Mr. Moretti, I saw the fire from the main house. I came as fast as I could."

Luca didn't say a word. He just stared at Daniel.

Then, with blinding speed, Luca drove his fist into Daniel’s jaw.

The larger man collapsed into the dirt, out cold.

"You betrayed me," Luca spat at the unconscious man.

He turned to Walter. "He took you away so they could raid your home."

Walter looked up, his eyes reflecting the blazing fire. The gentle, submissive driver I had known for two years vanished. The old man stood up, and for a moment, he didn't look seventy-four. He looked terrifying.

"Salvatore told me this day would come," Walter said, his voice hard as iron. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, silver pocket watch adorned with the Moretti family crest.

It was the mark of a Consigliere. The highest-ranking enforcer in the syndicate.

"I was never just a driver, Luca," Walter said quietly. "I was your father's right hand. I took this job to protect Rosie, and to protect the secret."

He looked directly at me.

"To protect you, Hannah."

Before I could process the shock, my phone vibrated violently in my apron pocket.

It was a text from an unknown number.

It was a photo of my mother, sitting in her wheelchair in her small apartment. But she wasn't alone.

Standing behind her, holding a suppressed pistol to her head, was a man with cold gray eyes. Vanessa's father. Carmine Bellini.