526 Nobody could believe the most feared mafia boss in Chicago would secretly trail a three-year-old little girl through the freezing night. Yet what waited behind that battered apartment door shattered the heart of a man who had survived bullets, betrayals, and bloodshed without ever shedding a single tear.

The darkness was instantly pierced by the red glare of emergency backup lights flickering along the cellar walls. The thud of heavy boots and the sharp, rhythmic crackle of submachine guns roared from the floor above.

Salieri hadn't waited for his spy to report back. He had launched a full-scale military breach on my estate.

"Marco!" I barked over the deafening noise. "Take four men and hold the main hall staircase! Don't let a single enemy reach the basement level!"

"What about you, Antonio?" Marco yelled back, racking his shotgun.

"I'm staying right here," I said, standing firmly in front of the heavy iron door of the safe room.

Joey Viteri was screaming in terror, tied to his chair in the corner as dust rained down from the ceiling joists. I ignored him, pulling two high-capacity pistols from my shoulders, stepping into the dark hallway leading to the cellar stairs.

Upstairs, the mansion was turned into a warzone. The priceless oil paintings, the marble statues, the three-hundred-year-old mahogany paneling—all of it was being chewed to pieces by a hail of lead. Salieri had sent at least twenty heavily armed mercenaries, crashing through the iron gates with an armored truck.

Through the heavy steel door behind me, I could hear muffled crying. Emma was terrified, her tiny screams echoing weakly through the ventilation shafts. Sofia was trying to hush her, her own voice cracking with panic.

"Antonio!" Sofia’s voice came faintly through the brass intercom speaker near the lock. "Antonio, they're inside! Please!"

I pressed the intercom button, my voice remaining unnaturally calm amidst the deafening chaos. "I am standing outside your door, Sofia. No one enters this room while I am breathing. Stay low. Cover Emma."

"Please be careful!" she sobbed.

Two men in tactical gear burst through the basement access door at the top of the stairs, their assault rifles flashing in the dim red emergency light. They were Salieri’s elite shooters.

I didn't flinch. I raised both pistols and fired with cold, mechanical precision.

Three shots echoed through the narrow stone corridor. Both men dropped instantly, their weapons clattering against the concrete stairs.

More footsteps echoed from above. "He’s in the cellar! Get down there! Salieri wants the kid dead!"

Three more mercenaries rushed down the steps, tossing a tear gas canister ahead of them. Smoke filled the narrow hall. I pulled my coat collar over my mouth, dropping behind a concrete pillar, returning fire as bullets chipped away the brickwork around my head.

A bullet grazed my shoulder, tearing through my suit jacket and biting into my flesh. A hot trickle of blood soaked my white shirt, but I barely felt the pain. The adrenaline coursing through my veins was toxic, white-hot, and relentless.

For three years, I had wanted to die. I had welcomed the idea of a bullet ending my miserable existence so I could rejoin Elena and Claire. But not tonight. Tonight, I had something to protect. Tonight, I had a reason to live.

I stepped out from behind the pillar into the thick cloud of smoke, firing until my magazines locked back empty. Three more bodies hit the floor.

Silence fell over the cellar hallway, heavy and suffocating, punctuated only by the crackle of fire from the upper floors and the agonizing groans of dying men.

I reloaded my weapons smoothly, my hands completely steady. I walked up the stone stairs, pushing through the heavy oak doors into the main foyer.

The scene was pure carnage. The grand chandelier had fallen, shattering into ten thousand crystal fragments across the marble floor. Six of Salieri’s men lay dead near the ruined oak entrance. Marco stood near the base of the grand staircase, holding his bleeding arm, surrounded by three of my surviving enforcers.

"We cleared the main floor, Boss," Marco panted, his breath ragged. "The rest of them retreated back through the gates. But..."

"But what?" I demanded, wiping a smear of blood and gunpowder from my cheek.

"Salieri wasn't in the armored truck," Marco said, looking at me with dark eyes. "It was a diversion."

My heart dropped into my stomach. "What do you mean, a diversion?"

"They didn't come to conquer the house, Antonio," Charles’s voice echoed from the shadowed hallway near the kitchen. Charles staggered out, clutching a deep knife wound in his side. "They came for the estate’s secondary perimeter... the rear garden access."

I turned instantly, my eyes widening with sudden, horrific understanding.

Joey Viteri. He hadn't just told them about the garden. He had given them the blueprints to the old underground service tunnel—a Prohibition-era passage that connected the cellar directly to the overgrown garden shed outside!

"NO!" I roared.

I turned and sprinted back down the cellar stairs faster than I had ever run in my life. I rounded the corner toward the safe room.

The steel door was intact, but the heavy iron lock had been blown off with a shaped explosive charge. The door swung open, heavy black smoke billowing out from inside.

I lunged into the room, my eyes burning from the acrid smoke.

"SOFIA! EMMA!" I screamed.

The room was trashed. The table was flipped. Standing in the corner, holding a smoking pistol, was Don Salieri’s top enforcer, Big Mike Russo.

Lying on the floor near the overturned chair was Sofia, unconscious, a dark bruise forming on her temple where she had been struck with a pistol butt.

And in Big Mike’s massive, gloved hand, held by her sweater like a helpless kitten, was little Emma.

She was kicking her tiny legs, crying hysterically, clutching her old rag doll Daisy in one hand and my silver pocket watch in the other.

"Let her go," I whispered, my voice dropping into a tone of such extreme toxicity that the air in the room felt heavy. My gun was raised, pointing directly between Russo’s eyes.