THE FOOTSTEPS ON THE CONCRETE STAIRS

I stared at the gold pocket watch sitting in the puddle.

“No,” Sara whispered. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed onto the wet asphalt, pulling Lily against her chest. “No, no, no...”

Leo’s gun shook violently. “You killed him? You killed my brother?”

Blair tilted her head, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. “He was warned, Leo. The council voted. It was a unanimous decision to remove him from power. I’m simply executing their will.”

She gestured to the four heavily armed men. “Kill the brother. Grab the child. Leave the mother and the maid in the alley.”

“Lily!” Sara screamed, throwing her body entirely over her daughter.

Leo stepped in front of us, raising his 9mm. But it was suicide. One handgun against four assault rifles.

The men raised their weapons.

I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around Sara and Lily, waiting for the deafening roar of gunfire.

Crack.

A single gunshot echoed through the alley.

But it didn't come from the men in front of us.

It came from the roof of the warehouse to our left.

One of Blair’s armed men suddenly dropped his rifle, clutching his shoulder as he fell backward onto the hood of the Mercedes.

Blair shrieked, dropping her silver umbrella as panic finally shattered her perfect composure. “Where did that come from?! Shoot them! Shoot them all!”

Crack. Crack.

Two more shots rang out with pinpoint precision. The streetlights above the alley shattered, plunging us into total darkness.

“Hold your fire!” one of the mercenaries yelled in the dark. “We can't see the shooter!”

Through the pouring rain and the chaos, I heard the heavy squeal of tires. A massive, matte-black armored truck tore around the corner of the alley, its high beams blinding everyone. It slammed directly into Blair’s Mercedes, crushing the luxury car against the brick wall with a sickening crunch.

The back doors of the armored truck flew open.

“Get in!” a booming voice roared.

I would know that voice anywhere.

I grabbed the gold pocket watch from the puddle, hauled Lily up by her arm, and dragged Sara toward the truck. Leo provided cover fire, blindly shooting toward Blair’s men as we scrambled into the back of the armored vehicle.

As soon as we tumbled inside, the heavy steel doors slammed shut behind us.

The truck violently reversed, spinning its tires, and tore out of the alley.

Inside the dimly lit cabin, I gasped for air, coughing up rainwater.

I looked up.

Sitting on the bench across from me, holding a massive sniper rifle, was Roman.

He was bleeding from a cut above his eye, his white dress shirt was torn and covered in soot, but he was alive. His chest heaved as he set the rifle down.

Sara let out a noise that sounded like a dying animal. She threw herself across the cabin, ignoring her fear, ignoring the six months of exile, and buried her face into Roman’s chest.

Roman wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her wet hair, closing his eyes.

“I’ve got you,” Roman whispered hoarsely. “I’ve got you. I’m so sorry, Sara. I’m so damn sorry.”

I watched them, the tears mixing with the rain on my face. The ruthless mafia king was crying.

“Daddy!” Lily scrambled over and squeezed between them, creating a desperately beautiful tangle of arms and tears.

Leo sat near the back doors, staring at his brother in absolute awe. “How... how did you get out of the basement?”

Roman looked up, his dark eyes flashing. “I didn't fight them. I blew the structural support columns under the east wing. The ceiling collapsed on Blair’s entry team. I walked out through the rubble.”

I stared at him in shock. “You blew up your own mansion?”

Roman looked at me, and a faint, exhausted smile crossed his lips. “I never liked that house anyway.”

I reached into the pocket of the oversized suit jacket I was still wearing. My fingers brushed the heavy gold. I pulled out his pocket watch and held it out to him.

“She tossed this,” I said quietly. “She tried to make us think you were dead.”

Roman didn't take the watch.

He looked at the gold timepiece, then looked deeply into my eyes.

“Keep it, Emily,” Roman said, his voice thick with emotion. “That watch is worth sixty thousand dollars. It’s solid gold. You pawn it tomorrow. That pays for your father’s care for the next two years. No holding companies, no threats. You’re free.”

I stared at the heavy gold watch in my palm, a fresh wave of sobs hitting my chest. I clutched it to my heart.

“Where are we going?” Leo asked nervously, looking out the reinforced window. “Blair will rally the entire syndicate. We have nowhere to hide.”

“We aren't hiding,” Roman said, his voice hardening as he reached under the bench and pulled out a thick, heavy leather duffel bag. He unzipped it. Inside were stacks of files, passports, and hard drives.

“We are going to the FBI Field Office,” Roman said.

Leo turned pale. “Roman, no. You’re a Castellano. We don’t rat.”

“The Castellano syndicate died tonight,” Roman said with absolute finality. He looked at Sara and Lily, his family, finally whole again. “I’m trading the entire council for full immunity and witness protection. We’re done.”

He reached into the duffel bag and pulled out one last item.

He held it out toward me.

It was a faded, crinkled photograph.

“Before I blew the east wing,” Roman said quietly, “I broke into Blair’s private safe. I was looking for the council ledgers to give to the feds. But I found this hidden under a false bottom.”

I took the photograph.

It was a picture taken ten years ago. It showed my father, wearing a sharp suit, standing on a boat.