THE MAKEUP BENEATH THE LIES

The flight to Montreal was short but agonizingly tense.

I sat in the plush leather seat of Luca’s private jet, watching the dark clouds roll past the window. Luca sat across from me, a tablet in his hands, reviewing satellite imagery with Marco.

“She didn't stay in the city,” Marco explained, pointing to a red dot blinking on a map of rural Quebec. “She hired a car service from the airport and drove three hours north. She’s hiding in a hunting cabin owned by a shell company her father set up years ago.”

“It’s isolated,” Luca noted, his eyes narrowing at the dense forest surrounding the cabin. “Perfect place to lay low until the heat dies down in Chicago.”

“Or a perfect place to wait for a pickup,” I suggested quietly.

Luca looked up at me. “A pickup?”

“She doesn't have any money, Luca. Her father’s accounts are frozen, and she ran before she could secure any cash,” I reasoned. “She’s not hiding. She’s waiting for someone to bring her new passports and untraceable funds so she can disappear into Europe.”

Luca’s expression darkened. “She’s waiting for the Romanos. They’re the only ones left who owe her a favor for trying to sell out my territory.”

“If the Romanos get to her first, she vanishes forever, and Reynolds arrests you for Collins’s murder by the end of the week,” Marco said grimly.

“Then we get to her first,” Luca said, snapping the tablet shut.

We landed at a small, private airstrip north of Montreal just as the sun began to set, casting long, eerie shadows across the Canadian wilderness.

Daniel had arranged for two heavily armored black SUVs to be waiting for us on the tarmac.

“You stay in the car this time, Anna,” Luca ordered, stopping me before I could climb into the back seat. “No arguments. This isn't a Chicago warehouse. If the Romanos are there, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

“I’m not staying behind, Luca,” I said firmly, crossing my arms. “I’m the only one who can identify the burner phone she used to set up the fake photos. I saw it in the safe. If you kill her without getting that phone, you can never prove your innocence to Reynolds.”

Luca stared at me, frustration and undeniable admiration warring in his dark eyes. He hated putting me in danger, but he knew I was right. Without the physical evidence on that burner phone, his alibi wouldn't hold up in court.

“Fine,” Luca growled, pulling a heavy tactical vest from the trunk and tossing it to me. “Put this on. And stay exactly behind me.”

We drove for two hours down winding, treacherous dirt logging roads, deep into the isolated Canadian pine forest. The silence of the wilderness was heavy and oppressive, broken only by the crunch of gravel beneath the SUV tires.

We cut the headlights a mile away from the coordinates Marco had pulled.

We hiked the rest of the way on foot, moving silently through the thick underbrush. The air was freezing, biting through my thin jacket, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins kept me warm.

Through the trees, the faint, warm glow of a cabin window appeared in the darkness.

It was a large, rustic log cabin sitting on the edge of a frozen lake. Two black SUVs were parked out front. The Romanos had beaten us here.

Luca motioned for Daniel and Marco to flank the cabin from the rear. He pulled his suppressed pistol from his holster and nodded to me.

We crept toward the front porch, keeping our bodies pressed against the shadows of the heavy logs.

I peered through the edge of the front window.

Inside the cabin, a fire roared in the stone hearth. Vanessa was pacing nervously in front of it, still wearing the red trench coat, looking exhausted and frantic.

Sitting on a leather sofa, casually smoking a cigar, was a man I didn't recognize. He wore a sharp, custom-tailored suit that looked entirely out of place in the rustic setting. He had a silver wolf tie pin clipped to his lapel.

The head of the Romano family.

“I need the passports, Vincent,” Vanessa snapped, stopping her pacing. “And the cash. The police are going to tear Chicago apart looking for me by morning.”

“Patience, Vanessa,” Vincent Romano purred, exhaling a plume of thick cigar smoke. “The passports are secure. But you’re asking for a lot of money for a woman who failed to deliver on her promises.”

“I didn't fail!” Vanessa shrieked. “My father died! Luca went crazy! It wasn't my fault!”

“Regardless,” Vincent sighed, standing up and dusting ash off his trousers. “You are a liability, my dear. You murdered a civilian photographer in cold blood and sent the police a digital trail. You’re sloppy.”

He pulled a small, silver pistol from his jacket pocket.

“The Romanos don't leave loose ends,” Vincent said coldly, aiming the gun directly at Vanessa’s chest.

Vanessa screamed, stumbling backward, tripping over a thick bear skin rug. She scrambled backward on the floor, terrified. “No! Vincent, please! I have the burner phone! It has all the evidence! I can give it to you to blackmail Luca!”

“I don't need to blackmail a man who’s going to prison for murder,” Vincent laughed.

He pulled the trigger.

The loud crack echoed through the cabin.

But Vanessa didn't fall.

The glass of the front window shattered inward as Luca fired a single, precise shot through the pane, striking Vincent Romano’s gun hand before he could execute Vanessa.

Vincent roared in pain, dropping his pistol as blood sprayed across the wooden floor.

Luca kicked the heavy oak front door open, stepping into the cabin with his weapon raised, absolutely lethal and perfectly calm.

“Evening, Vincent,” Luca said smoothly.

The Romano guards burst out of the back rooms, raising their assault rifles. But Daniel and Marco had already breached the rear entrance. Suppressed gunfire ripped through the cabin. The three Romano guards dropped to the floor before they could fire a single shot.

The cabin fell dead silent, save for the crackle of the fire and Vincent Romano groaning on the floor, clutching his shattered hand.

Vanessa was huddled in the corner, sobbing hysterically, realizing she had just been saved by the man she had tried to destroy.

Luca didn't look at her. He kept his gun trained on Vincent.

“You’re a long way from New York, Vincent,” Luca said coldly.

“You’re a dead man, Moretti,” Vincent hissed, glaring up at him through pain-filled eyes. “When my family finds out you shot me—”

“Your family is going to thank me for cleaning up their trash,” Luca interrupted. He looked down at the bleeding mob boss. “You broke the Commission’s rules by coming after my territory. You’re lucky I’m letting you walk out of here alive.”

Luca stepped closer, his voice dropping into a terrifying whisper.

“Take your men. Get in your cars. Go back to New York. If I ever see a Romano wolf in my city again, I won't aim for the hand.”

Vincent stared at Luca, recognizing the absolute, uncompromising power radiating from the Chicago boss. He swallowed his pride, cradled his bleeding hand against his chest, and stumbled out the front door without another word.

The sound of their SUVs speeding away into the night echoed through the quiet forest.

Luca finally turned his attention to Vanessa.

She was clutching a small, black burner phone to her chest, shivering violently.

“Give me the phone, Vanessa,” Luca ordered.

“No!” she screamed, scrambling further into the corner. “It’s my only leverage! If I give it to you, you’ll kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have let Vincent do it,” Luca said flatly. “Hand it over.”

“I won't!”

I stepped out from behind Luca, walking slowly toward the terrified woman.

“Vanessa,” I said quietly, keeping my voice perfectly calm.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock. She hadn't realized I was there.

“You’ve lost,” I told her gently. “Your father is dead. The Romanos abandoned you. You have no money, no power, and no one left to manipulate.”

I held out my good hand.

“Give me the phone,” I said. “And we will let you walk out that door. You can disappear. You can start over. But if you don't hand it over, the police will find you, and you will spend the rest of your life in a federal cage for David Collins’s murder.”

Vanessa stared at me. She saw the truth in my eyes. She had nothing left.

With a trembling hand, she slowly held out the black burner phone.

I took it, slipping it safely into my pocket.

Vanessa scrambled to her feet, pulling her red trench coat tight around her shivering body, and ran out the front door into the freezing, dark Canadian wilderness.

She was a ghost now. Hunted and alone.

I turned back to Luca.

He was staring at me, a profound, almost reverent look in his dark eyes. He holstered his weapon and closed the distance between us in three long strides.

He didn't say a word. He just wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I hugged him back with my good arm, breathing in the scent of pine and cold rain, feeling the heavy, steady beat of his heart against mine.

“It’s over,” I whispered into his shoulder.