"She was supposed to be invisible, but after taking a wall of shattered glass meant for Dante Moretti’s son, the most feared man in Chicago looked into her eyes and quietly said, “You’re coming with me.”

My head throbbed violently, and my hands were bound behind my back with heavy zip-ties that cut into my wrists. The emerald dress was torn at the hem, ruined by dirt and grease.

Standing in front of me was a tall, gaunt man with slicked-backed silver hair and a crooked, sneering mouth.

Dominic Falcone. The head of the rival family.

"Ah, the brave little waitress finally wakes up," Dominic sneered, pacing around my chair like a vulture. "You really caused a lot of trouble for me, girl. My plan to eliminate Dante's heir at Aurelio's was ruined because you decided to play hero."

My blood ran cold. "The server... Sophie," I whispered, the realization dawning on me. "She didn't trip. She was paid by you."

"A very expensive distraction," Dominic confirmed with a cruel laugh. "And now, here you are. The mysterious woman Dante Moretti has been keeping locked away in his fortress. Do you know how much money Dante offered on the street twenty minutes ago just for your location? Fifty million dollars."

"He will tear you apart," I said, my voice shaking with rage, meeting his cold eyes without flinching. "He will kill every single one of you."

Dominic stepped close, grabbing my chin forcefully in his bony hand. "He won't get the chance. By the time he tracks this signal, you'll be dead, and my men will ambush his convoy at the gates."

BOOM!

The heavy iron door at the top of the basement stairs was violently blown off its hinges by a breach charge!

Dust and concrete debris rained down as screaming, gunfire, and the terrifying sound of tactical assault rifles shattered the silence of the building!

Dominic gasped, stumbling back in shock. "Impossible! How did he find us so fast?!"

Through the settling smoke at the top of the stairs came a figure that looked less like a man and more like the grim reaper himself.

Dante Moretti stepped down the stairs, covered in tactical body armor, holding a suppressed assault rifle. His eyes were entirely black with rage, his silver eyebrow scar stark against his deadly pale skin. Behind him came Lorenzo and a dozen elite Moretti enforcers, moving with lethal precision, dropping Falcone’s guards before they could even draw their weapons.

Dominic panicked, drawing a pistol and pulling me up by my hair, pressing the cold steel barrel against my temple!

"Stay back, Moretti!" Dominic shrieked, hiding behind my body. "One step closer and I blow her brains across the wall!"

Dante stopped at the base of the stairs. He didn't raise his rifle. He slowly lowered it, his eyes fixing on Dominic with a coldness that made the room feel sub-zero.

"Dominic," Dante said, his voice terrifyingly calm, smooth as silk, and utterly devoid of mercy. "You touched my family once when you targeted my son. I let you live because of business. Now, you took the woman I love. You tied her to a chair. You hurt her."

Dominic’s hand trembled against my head. "Back off, Dante! I swear to God—"

"Look at my eyes, Dominic," Dante interrupted softly. "Do you see a man who is going to negotiate with you?"

Before Dominic could process the words, I remembered the leather strap of my dress. With every bit of strength left in my body, I slammed my head backward into Dominic’s nose!

A loud CRACK echoed as Dominic roared in pain, his grip loosening!

I dropped to the floor, rolling away as fast as my bound frame could manage!

THWACK! THWACK!

Two silenced shots echoed through the room. Dominic Falcone slumped to the concrete floor, dead before he even hit the ground.

Silence descended upon the basement.

Dante dropped his weapon, sprinting across the floor and dropping to his knees beside me. His large, trembling hands pulled a tactical knife from his vest, slicing through my zip-ties in a fraction of a second.

"Clara," he breathed out, pulling me tightly into his chest, holding my head against his neck as if he would never let go. "My God, Clara... are you hurt? Tell me."