THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME STRUGGLE TO CARRY HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER WITH ONE ARM PRESSED AGAINST MY RIBS—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE FELL IN THE SERVICE COURTYARD,” BEFORE HE HAD EVEN ASKED WHY I COULDN’T STAND STRAIGHT. Four more steps.

The air left my lungs.

The world tilted, the sound of the rain outside fading into a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

Leo.

Daniel held up the small, colorful paper zoo ticket, waving it slightly in the dim light. "Cute kid. He went with my guys quietly. Thought he was going on an adventure."

"Daniel," Luca said. His voice wasn't angry. It was a terrifying, hollow quiet. "If a single hair on that boy’s head is harmed, I will peel the skin from your body while you breathe."

"Save the tough guy routine, Luca," Daniel sneered, though I saw his hand grip his weapon tighter. "Drop the gun. Now. Or the kid takes a swim in the river before we even leave the dock."

Luca slowly lowered his weapon, letting it clatter onto the concrete.

He kicked it away.

I couldn't breathe. My ribs were agonizing, but the pain in my chest was pure maternal terror. Daniel had Leo. Daniel, the man who had been standing guard outside the library.

"Why?" Luca demanded, his hands raised slightly. "You've been my right hand for eight years. You saved my life in Detroit. Why do this?"

"Because you went soft!" Daniel spat. "You started running this family like a Fortune 500 company, Luca. Real estate. Tech investments. The streets belong to the cartels now. To him."

Daniel nodded toward Marco, who was watching the scene with dark, calculating eyes.

"So you sold me out to a ghost," Luca said.

"I made a business deal," Daniel corrected. "Marco needed his ledger back to rebuild the Falcone empire. He needed his long-lost daughter. I needed the Moretti throne. It was a perfect match."

I looked at Marco. My father.

He didn't look like a victorious cartel boss. He looked sick. His breathing was rattled, his grip on his cane white-knuckled.

"Is this true?" I asked Marco, my voice breaking. "You partnered with him to kidnap my son?"

Marco closed his eyes. "Emmeline… I’m dying. Lung cancer. Six months left. I didn't want the ledger for power. I wanted to find you before I died. I wanted to leave you an inheritance."

"By killing Mark?" I screamed.

"I didn't kill the boy!" Marco shouted back, coughing violently. "I told Daniel to find you. To bring you to me. Daniel is the one who ran Mark off the road three years ago when he realized Mark was trying to run with the microchip!"

Reversal.

Daniel had killed my husband.

Daniel was the one who had terrorized Vanessa.

Daniel was the mole.

"And it worked perfectly," Daniel smiled, stepping closer to Eleanor. "Until Eleanor started putting the pieces together. She recognized the car that hit Mark. She knew it was an inside job."

Eleanor looked at Luca, tears streaming down her bruised face. "I tried to protect them, Luca. I knew Marco was alive. I knew who Emily was the day Mark brought her to the estate. I hired her to keep her close. To keep her safe."

Luca looked at his mother, the betrayal and understanding washing over him simultaneously. She hadn't ordered a hit. She had been secretly funding a witness protection run for my husband, and when it failed, she kept me under her roof to protect me.

"Where is the boy, Daniel?" Marco demanded, leaning heavily on his cane. "We have the woman. Bring me my grandson."

Daniel laughed. "Yeah, about that, old man. Plans change."

Daniel leveled his gun squarely at Marco’s chest.

"The Moretti syndicate doesn't share power with the Falcones anymore. I'm wiping the board clean tonight."

He cocked the hammer.

"No!" I screamed, lunging forward.

Before Daniel could pull the trigger, the shadows above us shifted.

A heavy wooden crate, suspended by the warehouse crane, suddenly plummeted from the ceiling.

It crashed onto the concrete between Daniel and Marco with a deafening explosion of splinters and dust, completely shattering the floorboards.

Daniel staggered backward, raising his arm to shield his face from the debris, firing a wild shot into the ceiling.

In the chaos, Luca didn't hesitate.

He didn't dive for his gun. He lunged straight at Daniel.

The two men collided like freight trains, crashing into a stack of oil drums. Daniel’s gun skittered across the floor, sliding under a forklift.

"Emily, get my mother!" Luca roared over the sounds of fists hitting bone.

I scrambled across the debris-covered floor, ignoring the white-hot agony in my ribs. I reached Eleanor’s chair, my fingers desperately clawing at the thick ropes binding her wrists.

"The knife, Emily, his coat pocket," Eleanor gasped, nodding toward Marco.

Marco was slumped against a shipping container, clutching his chest, struggling for breath. I ran to him, plunging my hand into his trench coat pocket. My fingers brushed past cold metal, pulling out a switchblade.

But as I pulled it out, something else snagged on the handle and fell onto the concrete.

I stared at it.

It was a heavy, bloody piece of red silk.

A torn piece of Vanessa’s engagement dress.