I carried my feverish baby into the mansion of New York’s most feared crime boss—and he nearly had us thrown back into the snow. But the moment Victor Moretti saw the silver locket around my daughter’s neck, his face went pale, and armed men stormed the gates to take her.

"He's lying about the bonds," Victor growled, turning away from the monitor. "Antonio doesn't care about money. He wants revenge. He wants to wipe out my bloodline, and he knows that you and Lily are the last pieces of my sister left on this earth."

"We have to get out of here!" I panicked, cradling Lily as her breathing grew heavier. "Look at her, Victor! Her fever is spiking! She needs intravenous fluids and antibiotics now! If she stays in this cold bunker, she won't make it!"

Victor looked at my daughter, his hardened eyes softening with a fierce, protective instinct he hadn't felt in twenty-five years. He stepped over to a heavy weapons locker, flipping the digital lock open. Inside were tactical rifles, body armor, and specialized comms gear.

"My private medical team is stationed at a secure safehouse five miles north in Tarrytown," Victor said, strapping a kevlar vest over his suit jacket and handing me a thick, bulletproof coat. "There is an underground drainage tunnel beneath this vault that leads to the boat dock on the river. My second-in-command, Dominic, is waiting there with an armored speedboat."

"What about Marcone's men?" I asked, pulling the heavy coat over myself and wrapping Lily tightly inside against my chest.

"I will clear the path," Victor replied with cold, lethal conviction. "No one touches my niece or my grand-niece while I am breathing."

Victor grabbed a tactical rifle, unlocked the rear escape hatch of the bunker, and guided me into a narrow, damp concrete tunnel. The sound of muffled explosions echoed from the floor above us as Marcone’s men began setting demolition charges in the foyer.

We moved quickly through the dark, cold passage. The air was frigid, smelling of moss and river water. Lily whimpered softly against my neck, her small body radiating heat like a furnace.

"Hold on, baby," I whispered into her sweet, soft hair. "Mommy’s got you. Your grand-uncle is going to save us."

After three hundred yards, the tunnel opened up to a hidden boathouse built into the rocky cliffs overlooking the Hudson River. The dark water churned beneath a heavy snowstorm. Idling inside the boathouse was a massive, matte-black armored speedboat.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar across his jaw—Dominic—stepped off the boat, his weapon drawn.

"Boss!" Dominic called out, dropping his guard when he recognized Victor. "The explosives are ready on the main driveway! We can detonate them remotely the moment we hit the water!"

"Get the boat started, Dominic!" Victor ordered, ushering me onto the deck. "We ride straight to Tarrytown!"

Suddenly, the wooden doors of the upper boathouse were kicked open with a loud bang.