THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME STRUGGLE TO WHEEL HIS FIANCÉE’S $40,000 WEDDING GOWN INTO THE DINING ROOM—THEN SHE SAID, “SHE FELL AT THE FRONT GATE,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY MY STOCKING WAS COVERED IN BLOOD. Four more steps.

The tension in the hospital room snapped like a dry branch.

Before Tony could even reach for his weapon, Luca’s gun was pressed directly against his forehead.

The four Moretti guards in the hallway immediately drew their weapons, leveling them at the dozen Morano soldiers.

A bloodbath was seconds away.

"Luca, stop!" Vincenzo croaked from the bed, struggling to breathe.

"Tell your men to stand down, Vincenzo," Luca commanded, not taking his eyes off Tony. "Or I blow your nephew’s brains all over the wall right now."

Tony swallowed hard, the arrogant smirk completely vanishing from his face. He raised his hands slowly. "You shoot me in here, Moretti, you’ll never make it to the elevator. And the kid dies."

"Where is the boat, Tony?" Lucy screamed, stepping forward, ignoring the guns pointed in her direction. She grabbed Tony by his expensive lapels. "What dock!?"

Tony looked down at the desperate, bleeding maid, a sneer curling his lip. "You’re out of your depth, sweetheart."

Luca didn't hesitate.

He didn't shoot Tony. He simply shifted the gun down and fired a single round directly into Tony’s kneecap.

The gunshot echoed deafeningly in the sterile room.

Tony screamed, collapsing to the floor, clutching his shattered knee as blood instantly stained the linoleum.

The Morano guards in the hall surged forward, but Vincenzo raised a frail, trembling hand.

"Hold!" the old boss wheezed. "Hold!"

The guards froze.

Vincenzo looked at his nephew writhing on the floor, disgust replacing the horror in his eyes.

"You brought an assassin into this city," Vincenzo rasped, glaring at Tony. "You tried to steal a rival’s empire, and you kidnapped my blood. You are no Morano."

Vincenzo looked at Luca.

"Pier 39. My private yacht, The Siren. That’s where he keeps his men."

"Uncle, no!" Tony cried out in agony.

"If the boy is harmed, Tony," Vincenzo said, falling back against the pillows, exhausted, "I will have you skinned alive."

Luca didn't wait. He grabbed Lucy’s arm and dragged her out of the room.

They sprinted down the hallway, the Morano guards parting for them out of sheer shock and Vincenzo’s orders.

"Navy Pier," Luca barked at Daniel as they hit the elevator. "Call the harbor master. Lock down Pier 39. Nobody leaves on a boat tonight."

The drive to the pier took eight agonizing minutes.

The rain had turned into a thick, blinding mist rolling off Lake Michigan.

When they arrived at Pier 39, the massive, sleek black yacht—The Siren—was already untied from the dock. The engines were rumbling, preparing to depart.

"They’re leaving!" Lucy screamed, trying to open her door before the car even stopped.

Luca slammed the SUV into park and jumped out, drawing his weapon.

Three of Tony’s guards were standing on the rear deck of the yacht, preparing to cast off the final line. When they saw Luca’s armored car screech onto the pier, they immediately opened fire.

Bullets pinged violently against the SUV’s doors.

"Stay down!" Luca roared, pushing Lucy behind the engine block of the car.

He returned fire, his shots precise and lethal. One guard dropped. The other two ducked behind the yacht’s fiberglass hull.

The boat began to drift away from the wooden dock, the gap widening. Two feet. Four feet.

"Leo is on there!" Lucy cried, scrambling out from behind the car.

She didn't wait for Luca’s permission. She didn't care about the gunfire. She sprinted toward the edge of the pier.

"Lucy, no!" Luca yelled.

She leaped over the widening gap of freezing, black water and crashed onto the back deck of the yacht.

She hit the fiberglass hard, her injured leg giving out entirely, sending her sprawling.

One of the guards stepped out from cover, aiming an assault rifle directly at her head.

Before he could pull the trigger, Luca didn't just shoot. He holstered his weapon, took a running start, and launched his massive frame across the five-foot gap.

He collided with the guard in mid-air, both men crashing violently into the glass sliding doors of the yacht’s main cabin. The glass shattered into a million pieces.

Luca recovered instantly. He delivered a brutal, decisive blow to the guard’s jaw, knocking him out cold.

The boat was now fifteen feet away from the pier, drifting into the open water of the lake.

Luca hauled Lucy to her feet. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, wiping blood from a new cut on her cheek.

They stepped through the shattered glass into the luxurious main cabin. It was dark, illuminated only by the emergency floor lights.

"Leo?" Lucy called out, her voice echoing in the empty room.

Silence.

Luca moved silently toward the hallway leading to the lower decks, motioning for Lucy to stay behind him.

They descended the narrow, carpeted stairs.

At the end of the hall, the door to the master stateroom was slightly ajar.

Luca kicked the door open, his gun raised.

The room was empty.

But sitting on the king-sized bed was a small, child’s backpack.

And lying next to it was a photograph.

Luca picked it up, his stomach plummeting.

It was a picture of Lucy, taken from a distance while she was working at the estate.

But it wasn't taken by Tony Morano.

Written on the back, in elegant, sweeping handwriting, was a single sentence:

Did you really think I didn't know about the boy, Luca?

Reversal.

Tony Morano hadn't kidnapped Leo.

"Clara," Luca whispered, staring at the handwriting.

Clara hadn't just tried to kill Lucy. She had played Tony Morano against Vincenzo, used the distraction, and taken the child herself.

And Clara was supposed to be locked in the basement of the Moretti estate.

Luca’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He answered it.

"Hello, darling," Clara’s voice purred over the line.

"Where is he, Clara?" Luca growled, the yacht rocking violently beneath his feet.

"Oh, he's safe," Clara laughed softly. "Daniel was so kind to let me out of the holding cell. He’s such a loyal employee, isn't he? To the highest bidder, anyway."

Luca’s blood ran cold.

Daniel. His right hand. The man who was supposed to be guarding her.

"If you want the boy back," Clara said, "you’re going to give me exactly what I want. The deed to the Moretti estate. Signed over to me."