YOU CHANGED HIS BEDSHEETS, SWEETHEART. THAT DOESN'T MAKE YOU FAMILY!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED THE YOUNG HOUSEMAID IN FRONT OF FORTY GUESTS—BUT WHEN LUCA MORETTI HEARD HER WHISPER, “YOUR FATHER WASN'T ALONE WHEN HE DIED,” HE SLOWLY PUT DOWN HIS GLASS.**

Viktor Romanov stood in the glow of the headlights, leaning heavily on his silver-headed cane. His men fanned out, their assault rifles raised, forming a lethal, inescapable circle around us.

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, Vanessa,” Viktor said, his voice smooth and terrifyingly calm. “Twenty years ago, you stole five million dollars from my cartel and ran. I told Antonio Moretti I would wipe Chicago off the map if he didn't hand you over.”

Answer One: Vanessa didn’t just lose her child. She was a thief on the run, and Antonio took her son as payment to settle the debt with the Russians.

Vanessa remained on her knees, clutching the leather ledger to her chest. “I did it to give my baby a better life! I didn’t know Antonio would steal him!”

Viktor chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. “And now the boy is a man. A mafia boss playing at being a legitimate businessman.” He turned his cold, dead eyes to Luca. “You have Romanov blood in your veins, boy. My brother was your father. But you wear the Moretti name. A bastard wearing a stolen crown.”

Luca stood tall, his body shielding me from the guns. “My name is Luca Moretti. My father was Antonio. And you are not walking out of Chicago alive.”

Viktor sighed dramatically. “Brave. Foolish, but brave. Kill them all. Take the ledger. We burn this city tonight.”

The Russian guards raised their weapons, fingers tightening on the triggers.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I acted on pure, desperate adrenaline.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the matte-black handgun Luca had given me. But I didn’t aim it at Viktor. I didn’t aim it at the guards.

I aimed it directly at the massive, rusted propane tank sitting against the warehouse wall, less than twenty feet from the Russian cars.

“Tell them to drop their guns!” I screamed, my hands shaking so hard the barrel wavered. “Or I pull the trigger and blow us all to hell!”

Open Two: Would a terrified housemaid actually pull the trigger on a volatile explosive, risking her own life?

Viktor Romanov paused. He looked at me, taking in my cheap coat, my trembling hands, my pale face. Then, he smiled.

“You’re a maid,” Viktor sneered. “You don’t have the stomach for it.”

He nodded to his men.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled the trigger.

CLICK.

Nothing happened.

I pulled it again. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

The gun was empty.

Reversal: Luca hadn't given me a loaded weapon. He had given me an empty gun with a GPS tracker to keep me from accidentally hurting myself.

Viktor laughed out loud, a booming, cruel sound. “Take the girl alive. She has spirit.”

Before the guards could step forward, the wail of sirens pierced the night air. It wasn't just one or two. It was a massive, deafening chorus of police sirens, SWAT vehicles, and helicopters bearing down on Pier 4.

Red and blue lights flooded the warehouse, flashing through the shattered skylights.

“FBI! Drop your weapons!” a voice boomed over a megaphone from outside.

Viktor’s smile vanished. He glared at Luca. “You called the Feds? You broke omertà?”

“I told you,” Luca said coldly, stepping forward. “I’m a legitimate businessman. And legitimate businessmen call the police when armed thugs trespass on their property.”

Chaos erupted. Viktor’s men scrambled toward their vehicles, firing wildly toward the massive warehouse doors as the SWAT teams breached the building with flashbangs.

“Get down!” Luca yelled, tackling me to the concrete floor as bullets shredded the air above us.

Through the blinding flashes of light and deafening gunfire, I saw Vanessa crawl desperately toward the chaos. She wasn’t running away. She was crawling toward Viktor Romanov, who was struggling to get into his armored sedan.

“Vanessa, no!” Luca shouted, reaching for her.

But it was too late. Vanessa lunged, grabbing Viktor by his wool coat. She pulled a small, silver stiletto blade from her boot and drove it directly into the Russian boss’s chest.

Viktor gasped, his eyes going wide. He raised his cane, pulling the silver wolf’s head to reveal a hidden blade, and struck Vanessa in the side.