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

My phone slipped from my trembling fingers, falling into the damp grass.

Luca picked it up. He looked at the photo of my mother, the barrel of the gun pressed against her graying hair.

"Carmine," Luca whispered, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek.

"He has my mom," I choked out, the reality hitting me like a physical blow. "He’s going to kill her. Just because of who her parents were."

Walter stepped forward, his eyes sharp. He looked at the blazing ruins of his cottage, then at the pocket watch in his hand.

"Carmine doesn't want to kill her, Hannah," Walter said, his voice gravelly and calm. "He wants you to sign away your bloodright. As long as you and your mother exist, Carmine isn't the true head of the Bellini family. You are."

I backed away, shaking my head. "I don't want a mafia family! I just want to pay my rent! I want my mother safe!"

"I know," Luca said softly, stepping into my line of sight. He placed his hands firmly on my shoulders. "And she will be. I promise you, Hannah. Nobody dies tonight."

He turned to Walter. "Call the loyal men. The ones my father trusted. If Daniel turned, half the security team might be bought."

Walter nodded. He pulled a burner phone from his coat, his thumbs moving quickly. "I have five men who bleed Moretti green. They'll be at the gates in two minutes."

"That’s not enough to start a war," Luca said.

"We aren't starting a war," Walter replied, his eyes dark. "We're ending one."

Luca grabbed the heavy shotgun from the grass. He checked the chamber, then handed it to me. "Do you know how to use this?"

I stared at the weapon. "No."

"Point and pull," he said grimly. "But stay behind me."

We left Rosie sitting safely on a blanket in the garden, watched over by one of the loyal guards who had just arrived. Walter led the way, his limp completely gone, replaced by the lethal grace of a man who had survived thirty years in the underworld.

As we approached the massive wrought-iron gates of the estate, the rain began to fall, hissing against the hot floodlights.

Standing in the driveway, surrounded by a dozen armed men, was Carmine Bellini.

Vanessa stood beside him, clutching her silk shawl, looking terrified and vindicated all at once.

And in the center of the driveway, sitting in her wheelchair, was my mother.

"Mom!" I screamed, stepping forward.

"Hannah, stay back!" my mother cried, her voice trembling but fierce.

Carmine raised a hand, and his men aimed their weapons at us.

"Luca," Carmine smiled smoothly, adjusting his expensive Italian coat. "A tragic night for a wedding. But a perfect night to correct history. Give me the lockbox, and the girl signs the waiver. Then, you can have this crippled woman back."

Luca stopped ten feet away. He pulled the copper lockbox from his coat and dropped it onto the wet asphalt. It clanged loudly.

"There's the box," Luca said. "Let Elena go."

"Not yet," Carmine sneered. He snapped his fingers. Vanessa stepped forward with a leather portfolio and a pen. She walked cautiously toward me.

"Sign it," Vanessa ordered, shoving the pen at my chest. "Sign over your claim to the Bellini estates."

I reached for the pen, desperate to save my mother.

But before my fingers could touch it, Walter stepped between us.

He didn't look at Vanessa. He looked straight at Carmine.

"Carmine Bellini," Walter called out, his voice cutting through the rain. "You broke the Old Oath. You brought a weapon against a civilian on neutral ground."

Carmine laughed. "You’re an old driver, Walter. Go wash a car."

Walter reached into his pocket. He didn't pull out a gun.

He pulled out a heavy gold ring, etched with a black wolf. The mark of the Commission.

Carmine’s smile vanished instantly. His men lowered their guns a fraction of an inch, glancing at each other in confusion.

"I am the last living executioner of the High Table," Walter declared, his voice echoing like thunder. "And by the laws of our fathers, Carmine Bellini is stripped of his title."

Carmine’s face turned purple with rage. "Kill them! Kill the old man!"

None of his men moved. They stared at the ring.

"They don't take orders from you anymore, Carmine," Luca said quietly, raising his pistol. "Because you aren't the boss. She is."

Luca pointed at me.

Carmine screamed in fury and raised his own gun, aiming directly at my mother’s chest.