THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME HELP HIS SEVENTY-FOUR-YEAR-OLD CHAUFFEUR OUT OF THE RAIN DURING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “HE WAS FIRED FOR STEALING,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE MAN WHO HAD DRIVEN HIS FAMILY FOR FORTY YEARS WAS HOLDING A SMALL BIRTHDAY CAKE.**

The private airfield at Chicago O’Hare was a desolate stretch of wet concrete illuminated by harsh floodlights.

A sleek, white Gulfstream jet idled on the tarmac, its engines whining loudly over the relentless rain.

Standing beneath a large black umbrella near the boarding stairs was Julian Vance. He wore a sharp charcoal suit, looking entirely unbothered by the midnight storm. Flanking him were four heavily armed mercenaries.

Luca parked the SUV fifty yards away.

He turned back to Arthur and my mother. "Stay on the floor. Keep the doors locked."

He looked at me. "Rebecca, you don't have to step out of this car."

"I'm finishing this, Luca," I said, my voice steady.

We stepped out into the freezing rain.

Luca walked beside me, his presence a heavy, protective shield. Despite his injuries, he walked with the terrifying grace of a man who owned the city.

Vance smiled as we approached.

"Punctual, Mr. Moretti. I appreciate that."

Vance motioned to a metal table set up beneath a small canopy. On it sat a stack of legal documents and a pen. Beside the documents was a vintage cassette tape in a clear plastic case.

"The audio confession," Vance gestured to the tape. "Enough to send the Mayor to federal prison for life, or enough to ensure the Moretti family is never investigated again."

Luca stared at the tape. "And Vanessa?"

"In the cargo hold," Vance said dismissively. "She signed her portion twenty minutes ago under... duress. Now, Miss Collins, we just need your signature."

I looked at the documents.

Eighty million dollars. Blood money. Built on extortion, violence, and the ruined lives of people like my adoptive father and my brother.

"If I sign this," I said to Vance, "you take the money, and Luca takes the tape. The corruption just changes hands."

Vance chuckled. "That is the nature of our world, my dear."

"I don't belong to your world," I said coldly.

I picked up the pen.

Vance's smile widened.

But I didn't sign the signature line.

I turned the pen around and violently jammed the ink tip straight into the center of the cassette tape, shattering the thin plastic casing and snapping the magnetic ribbon inside.

Vance gasped, stepping forward in shock. "What have you done?!"

"I just destroyed your leverage," I said, throwing the ruined tape onto the wet tarmac.

Vance’s face contorted in rage. "Kill them both!"

The four mercenaries raised their rifles.

But Luca was faster.

He didn't draw a gun. He reached into his coat and pressed a small detonator remote.

A deafening explosion rocked the airfield.

The front landing gear of the Gulfstream jet blew out, dropping the massive nose of the plane onto the concrete with a horrific screech of tearing metal. Sparks flew into the rain.

Vance screamed, diving to the ground as his escape route was destroyed.

The mercenaries spun around, distracted by the blast.

Instantly, the darkness surrounding the tarmac lit up with dozens of blinding tactical lights.

"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"

Three armored SWAT trucks tore out from behind the nearby hangars, swarming the jet.

Agents poured out, laser sights pinning Vance and his men to the ground.

I stood in shock as the mercenaries dropped their rifles, raising their hands in surrender.

Luca placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me away from the chaos.

"How?" I breathed, looking at the swarm of federal agents arresting Vance. "When did you call the FBI?"

Luca looked down at me, a soft, genuine smile touching his lips.

"I didn't," he said. "Your brother did."

I froze.

A tall figure emerged from the back of the lead SWAT truck.

He was wearing a tactical vest. His arm was in a sling. He looked exhausted, pale, and battered.

But he was alive.

"Tony," I whispered, the word catching in my throat.

My brother walked toward me, a tired smile breaking across his face.

"Hey, Becca," Tony said softly.

"You're alive," I sobbed, launching myself into his arms.

"Marco missed the vital organs," Tony winced slightly as I hugged him, but held me tight. "I had backup waiting down the street. When Luca found me, he helped me stage the scene so Marco would think I was dead. It was the only way to get Marco to confess on his own wire."

I pulled back, looking between my brother and Luca.

"You worked together?"

Luca nodded respectfully to Tony. "Your brother is a stubborn man. He wouldn't let me take the fall."

Tony looked at Luca. "You kept my sister safe. We're even, Moretti."