THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME SERVE HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER WITH MY LEFT HAND WRAPPED IN A BLOODSTAINED NAPKIN—

The golden cylinder inside the pocket watch gleamed in the beam of my phone's flashlight.

"Luca didn't just give you a family heirloom," Thomas whispered, taking the watch from Lily's hands with trembling fingers. "He gave us the way out."

"Find the keyhole," I urged, shining the light across the concrete floor.

Thomas dropped to his knees, sweeping his hands over the thick industrial carpet that covered the panic room. "It has to be near the center. Usually under a structural plate."

I knelt beside him, my injured hand throbbing so fiercely I could feel my pulse in my fingertips. We tore the heavy carpet back, revealing the smooth concrete beneath.

There it was. A small, circular steel plate, no larger than a coaster, perfectly flush with the floor.

Thomas pressed his thumb against the center of the plate. It clicked and slid aside, revealing a deep, cylindrical lock.

He inserted the golden key from the pocket watch.

With a heavy, grinding sound of gears shifting, a three-foot section of the concrete floor suddenly dropped two inches and slid underneath itself.

A dark, narrow shaft was revealed, with an old iron ladder leading down into the pitch-black prohibition tunnels.

"Go," Thomas said, grabbing Lily and lifting her toward the opening. "Anna, take her down. I'll cover the hatch."

"I can't climb well," I said, holding up my bloody, useless left hand.

"You have to," Thomas insisted, his eyes desperate. "If Dr. Bellini realizes the gas isn't working, he'll blow the steel door. You have to get Lily out."

I didn't argue. I swung my legs over the edge and awkwardly gripped the cold iron rungs with my right hand, pressing my left forearm against the ladder for balance.

I descended into the freezing, damp darkness.

"Come on, sweetie," Thomas coaxed Lily.

The nine-year-old girl climbed down bravely, her small hands gripping the rusted metal. I guided her feet from below until we both hit the dirt floor of the tunnel.

I looked up.

Thomas wasn't climbing down.

He was standing at the top of the hatch, looking down at us. He tossed my cell phone down to me; I caught it clumsily against my chest.

"Thomas! Come on!" I whisper-shouted.

"If I come down, I can't seal the hatch from the top," Thomas said, his voice echoing eerily down the shaft. "If they breach the panic room and find the hatch open, they'll just follow you. I have to lock it back."

"They'll kill you!" I cried.

"I'm already dead to Vanessa," Thomas smiled sadly. He looked directly at Lily. "I love you, bug. You be a good girl for your real daddy, okay?"

"Daddy!" Lily screamed, reaching up toward the opening.

"Thomas, don't do this!" I pleaded.

But Thomas reached down, grabbed the heavy concrete slab, and pulled it violently shut.

The metallic clang echoed through the tunnel, plunging us into absolute darkness.

Lily broke down sobbing, burying her face into my apron.

I fell to my knees, wrapping my good arm around her, tears streaming down my own face. Thomas had just sacrificed himself to buy us a head start.

"We have to go, Lily," I whispered, turning on the phone flashlight again. "We have to be brave for him."

I took her small hand, and we began walking down the damp, endless dirt tunnel. The air smelled of old earth and rot.

We walked for what felt like miles. My hand was bleeding freely again, the pain making me dizzy, but I couldn't stop. I had the clinic records in my pocket, and I had the heir to the Moretti empire holding my hand.

Finally, the tunnel inclined upward, ending at a heavy wooden door.

I pushed it open with my shoulder.

We stumbled out into the freezing night air.

We were in the old carriage house at the far edge of the estate, nearly a mile from the main mansion. The snow was falling heavily, blanketing the ground.

"We made it," I breathed, seeing a vintage black Mustang parked under a tarp. Luca's emergency escape vehicle.

I ran to the driver's side and opened the door. The keys were tucked above the visor, exactly where Mrs. Carter had once told me they were kept.

"Get in, Lily," I said.

But Lily didn't move.

She was staring past me, out into the snowy driveway.

I turned around.

Standing in the falling snow, illuminated by the pale moonlight, was Vanessa.

Her red silk gown was ruined, covered in soot and blood. She held a silver revolver, and it was pointed directly at my chest.