Minutes later, I found the three-year-old son I had hidden in a hospital supply closet curled on the chest of a mafia boss who had stopped breathing. Suddenly, the heart monitor began beeping again. When the man opened his eyes, he ignored the doctors and armed guards, stared directly at me, and asked, “Do you know who your husband really worked for?”

The warehouse was a cavernous labyrinth of rusted shipping containers, hanging chains, and shadows.

We moved fast, Viktor and two other armed men forming a tight defensive perimeter around Alessandro and me. Logan stirred slightly against Alessandro’s chest, murmuring something about his teddy bear before drifting back into exhaustion. The fact that the most feared criminal in Baltimore was carrying my three-year-old son like a protective father was a surreal nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

“Where are we going?” I hissed, jogging to keep up with Alessandro’s long strides.

“To a comms room,” Alessandro said, his breathing shallow from the strain on his healing chest. “David uses a secure satellite frequency to check in. If we can patch through before Vance’s men jam the local towers, we can reach him.”

Suddenly, a deafening explosion shattered the quiet of the docks.

The heavy steel entrance doors of the warehouse blew inward, sending a shockwave of dust, smoke, and shrapnel flying across the concrete floor.

“Ambush!” Viktor roared, shoving me behind a massive steel shipping container.

Gunfire erupted instantly. The sharp, deafening cracks of automatic rifles echoed off the corrugated metal walls, sending sparks flying as bullets punched through steel crates and concrete pillars.

“Keep your head down!” Alessandro ordered, shoving Logan into my arms while drawing a sleek, suppressed Glock from beneath his coat with his free hand.

Peeking around the edge of the container, my heart froze.

Half a dozen men in tactical black gear were swarming into the warehouse, moving with military precision. At their head was a tall, silver-haired man with a sickeningly familiar smile—Marcus Vance.

“Alessandro!” Marcus shouted over the din of gunfire, his voice echoing mockingly through the cavernous space. “I know you’re in here, you arrogant bastard! And I know you brought company!”

Viktor returned fire, dropping one of the attackers with a clean headshot, but two more took his place, advancing rapidly under heavy suppressive fire.

“We’re trapped!” I screamed over the noise, clutching Logan to my chest as plaster rained down from the ceiling.

“Not yet,” Alessandro said. His face was a mask of cold, unyielding iron. He didn't look like a wounded man anymore; he looked like a predator backed into a corner.

He leaned out from behind the container, fired three rapid shots, dropping two more of Marcus’s men before a bullet chipped the concrete inches from his head. He pulled back, his breath coming hard, blood slowly seeping through his bandages again.

“Catherine, listen to me,” Alessandro said, grabbing my shoulders with a grip that bruised. “Take Logan through the maintenance corridor at the back of this container. It leads to the water. There’s a speedboat waiting at Pier 4. The keys are in the ignition.”

“What about you?!” I shouted.

“I’m going to draw them away,” Alessandro said, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that burned right through my terror. “If I don't walk out of here, tell David… tell him I kept my promise.”

Before I could argue, Alessandro stepped out from behind the cover, firing his weapon into the open space, roaring a challenge that drew every single gun barrel in the warehouse toward him.

“Over here, you bastards!”