THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME PULL HIS NINE-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER'S SHOES OUT OF THE TRASH DURING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE THREW THEM AWAY HERSELF,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE LITTLE GIRL WAS HIDING BAREFOOT BENEATH THE STAIRCASE.** "Put those back, Sophie."

The shock of the freezing river knocked the breath from my lungs.

I broke the surface, gasping for air, desperately searching the black water.

"Amelia!" I screamed.

A small hand slapped the water near me. "Sophie!"

I swam to her, wrapping my arm securely around her chest, keeping her head above the churning current. The river was moving fast, pulling us away from the bridge.

Above us, the night erupted in gunfire. The deafening roar of automatic weapons echoed off the concrete pillars. I looked up and saw the flash of muzzle fire painting the bridge in jagged light.

Luca was holding them off.

"Daddy!" Amelia sobbed, swallowing a mouthful of river water.

"We have to keep moving," I choked out, fighting the current to drag us toward the muddy bank.

We washed ashore about a quarter-mile downstream, collapsing into the freezing mud. I was shivering violently, my uniform heavy with water. Amelia was pale, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

I couldn't let her freeze. I pulled her to her feet.

"Come on, sweetie. We have to hide."

We stumbled into the dense woods, navigating by moonlight. After twenty minutes of walking blindly, I saw a shape in the darkness.

An old, abandoned hunting cabin. The roof was sagging, and the windows were boarded up, but it was shelter.

I kicked the rotting door open. It smelled of mildew and dry earth. I found a pile of old burlap sacks in the corner and wrapped them around Amelia, pulling her close to share my body heat.

"Is Daddy dead?" Amelia whispered, tears freezing on her cheeks.

"No," I said fiercely. "Your dad is the strongest man I know. He’s going to find us."

Answer one: Luca had sacrificed himself to give us a head start.

Open two: If Luca fell, Carmine would never stop hunting Amelia.

Suddenly, the wooden floorboards creaked outside.

I froze.

Someone was walking around the cabin. Heavy, deliberate footsteps.

I looked frantically for a weapon. I grabbed a rusted iron fireplace poker, standing in front of Amelia.

The door slowly creaked open.

A tall figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the moonlight.

I raised the iron poker, ready to swing with everything I had.

"Don't," a ragged voice gasped.

The figure stepped into the cabin and collapsed onto the floor.

It was Luca.

"Daddy!" Amelia screamed, throwing off the sacks and running to him.

I dropped the poker and fell to my knees beside him.

He was in terrible shape. His suit was shredded, and he was bleeding from a gunshot wound in his shoulder, along with the knife wound in his side. He was breathing in shallow, ragged gasps.

"You made it," I sobbed, pressing my hands against his shoulder to slow the bleeding.

"Lost them... in the woods," Luca choked out, his eyes struggling to focus on my face. "I disabled their cars."

"We need to get you to a hospital," I panicked.

"No hospitals," Luca grabbed my wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong. "Carmine owns the hospitals. We wait here until dawn."

Reversal. The mafia boss, who usually had a private army and a team of surgeons at his beck and call, was bleeding out on a dirt floor, relying entirely on a housemaid to keep him alive.

I tore the hem of my apron and bound his shoulder tightly. Amelia sat by his head, stroking his hair, her small face brave and determined.

"You did good, Sophie," Luca whispered, his eyes closing. "You saved her."

"We're both going to save her," I said firmly. "Don't you dare close your eyes."

But he did. He lost consciousness.

For the next four hours, I sat in the dark, listening to the rain, praying his chest would keep rising and falling.

Just as the sun began to break over the horizon, casting a pale gray light through the cracks in the boards, I heard a sound that made my blood freeze.

Helicopter blades.

Not one. Three of them. Thumping loudly over the forest canopy.

I peered through a crack in the wall.

They weren't police choppers. They were black, unmarked, and heavily armed.

Carmine hadn't just sent cars. He had called in a private military contractor.

And they were circling directly over the cabin.

"Luca," I shook him frantically. "Luca, wake up!"

He groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He heard the choppers.

He reached into his blood-soaked pocket and pulled out a small, metallic object.

Not a phone.

A flash drive.

"Take this," Luca gasped, forcing it into my hand. "It’s the ledger. Everything Carmine has ever done. Every judge he bought. Every murder he ordered."

"I'm not leaving you," I cried.

"Carmine wants the ledger to destroy it, and Amelia for the money," Luca said, his voice breaking. "If he gets both, he wins. You have to run."

Before I could argue, the front door of the cabin was kicked off its hinges.

Standing in the doorway, holding a tactical shotgun, was the man who had fired the shots on the bridge.