630 "They Said She Nearly Killed the Mafia Boss’s Dog, but Nero Remembered Exactly Who Had Hurt Him—and His Reaction Exposed Everything. A Poor Girl Was Wrongly Arrested—But the Mafia Boss's Dog She Once Saved Proved Her Innocence

Despite the settlement offer, the war between the Thorne family and the remnant factions of the Moretti syndicate was far from over.

Three days after Marcus Thorne’s arrest, a mercenary crew hired by the desperate, dying leadership of the Moretti family launched a suicidal, late-night assault on the Thorne estate. They knew Julian’s security force was distracted by the internal purge, and they wanted blood.

At 2:00 AM, the estate's primary power grid was detonated at the main transformer station.

The grand mansion went completely pitch black. The automated emergency iron shutters failed to deploy, leaving the sweeping glass windows of the ground floor vulnerable.

Cora was asleep in her cottage when the heavy explosions echoed across the lawn.

Nero stood up instantly, his ears pulled back, a fierce, protective growl echoing from his deep chest.

"Nero! Stay close!" Cora yelled, pulling on her boots in the dark as emergency red lights flickered on inside the cottage.

Outside, automatic gunfire shattered the quiet night air. Screams and shouts echoed from the main driveway as heavily armed men in black tactical gear breached the perimeter gates.

Through her window, Cora saw three armed men moving through the shadows directly toward the rear of the main mansion—where Julian Thorne’s private living quarters were located. Julian’s primary security team had been lured toward the front gate by a decoy explosion.

Julian was alone in the main house.

"He saved us, Nero," Cora whispered, looking down at the massive dog whose amber eyes were burning in the red emergency light. "We have to save him."

Cora didn't hesitate. She grabbed a heavy iron flashlight from her nightstand, unlocked her door, and sprinted through the dark rain toward the main house, with 140 pounds of black muscle running silently at her side.

They breached the rear kitchen entrance just as two Moretti mercenaries kicked open the double doors leading to Julian’s master study on the ground floor.

Inside the study, Julian Thorne stood behind his desk, holding a silver custom pistol, firing three shots that dropped the lead attacker. But the second mercenary—a massive man armed with a tactical shotgun—raised his weapon, aiming directly at Julian’s chest from ten feet away.

"For the Morettis, Thorne!" the mercenary snarled.