"My Mommy Can Fix Your Car, Sir." A Little Girl Told the Mafia Boss—Then Everything Changed Forever!

The garage was a gallery of sharp shadows and cold metal under the moonlight pouring through the blown-out windows.

Alessandro slunk low behind a heavy iron workbench, his Beretta held in a two-handed combat grip. Outside, three flashlights cut through the dry cornstalks, their beams crisscrossing over the gravel yard.

Vane was taking no chances this time. He had brought six men.

"Moretti!" Vane's coarse voice echoed from the dark trees. "We know you're in there! Uncle Dominick sends his regards! Save the girl and the kid the trouble—walk out with your hands up!"

Alessandro didn't answer. Silence was a tactical advantage; noise was for men who were afraid.

He counted the shadows moving across the perimeter. Two approaching the front bay door. One circling toward the rear storage shed. Three holding positions near the vehicles to cover the escape routes.

In the cellar beneath his feet, he heard the faint, metallic scrape of Sophia opening her heavy iron tool chest. She was working in total darkness, relying entirely on touch and muscle memory forged in military staging grounds halfway across the world.

A silhouette stepped through the side pedestrian door of the garage, a suppressed submachine gun raised to eye level.

Alessandro didn't wait. He stepped out from behind the workbench, fired two rapid rounds into the man's chest, and melted back into the shadows before the body even hit the concrete floor.

"Contact inside!" a voice screamed from the yard.

Automatic fire instantly ripped through the wooden walls of the garage. Bullets punched through sheet metal, shattered jars of motor oil, and sent sparks flying off iron equipment.

Alessandro dropped low, rolling beneath the chassis of a half-rebuilt pickup truck. Oil dripped onto his cheek, warm and thick, but he didn't blink. He calculated the rounds remaining in his magazine. Eleven.

Through the floorboards, a low, mechanical whine suddenly began.

Sophia was at work.

A loud spark arced beneath the floor, followed by the smell of burning copper wire. She was hot-wiring the Maybach’s main starter relay, forcing high-voltage current directly past the dead security module.

"Vane!" Alessandro shouted, his voice echoing off the corrugated iron roof, intentionally drawing every piece of attention away from the rear barn. "You were always a terrible shot! Dominick should have sent someone who knew how to hold a rifle!"

"You're dead, Alessandro!" Vane roared, spraying another burst of automatic fire through the front office windows. "Search the house! Kill everything that moves!"

Two men rushed toward the door leading to the living quarters.

Alessandro slid out from under the truck, raised his Beretta, and fired three controlled shots. The first man crumpled immediately; the second took a round to the shoulder, staggering backward with a howl of pain.

"He's behind the truck!" the wounded man screamed.

Alessandro dropped his empty magazine, slapped a fresh one into the grip, and racked the slide—all in one fluid, terrifyingly smooth motion.

Suddenly, from the rear barn, a deafening noise shook the very foundations of the property.

It wasn't the smooth, quiet purr of a sixty-thousand-dollar luxury vehicle. It was a raw, screaming, unholy roar of a V12 engine stripped of all electronic limiters, running on raw fuel and brute force. Smoke blue and thick began billowing out from under the barn doors.

Sophia had done it.

The barn doors burst open with a violent crunch as the massive black Maybach smashed through the wooden frame, its front bumper dripping with broken cedar beams and splintered timber.

The car squealed onto the concrete clearing, its rear tires smoking furiously as Sophia threw the heavy transmission into gear.

The passenger side door flew open.

"Get in!" Sophia shouted above the deafening scream of the uncalibrated engine.

Alessandro broke cover, sprinting through a hail of frantic, panicked gunfire from Vane’s surviving men. He vaulted over a low concrete divider, dove into the open passenger seat, and slammed the door shut just as three heavy rounds slammed harmlessly against the thick bulletproof glass.

In the back seat, Emma was ducked down beneath a heavy wool blanket, her hands clamped tight over her ears, her eyes wide with terror.

"Hold on!" Sophia yelled.

She slammed her foot onto the accelerator. The Maybach launched forward like a wounded beast, its high-performance engine screaming at nine thousand RPMs.

Vane lunged into the path of the car, raising a heavy shotgun, but Sophia didn't hesitate for a single second. She steered straight for him. Vane was forced to dive wildly into the dusty cornfield to avoid being crushed under three tons of German steel.

The Maybach smashed through the farm's perimeter fence, splintering wooden posts, and tore onto the dark, unpaved country road.

Behind them, the garage of Reed & Daughter Auto Repair stood silent under the moonlight, its windows shattered, its doors gaping wide.

Alessandro looked back through the cracked, bullet-pocked rear window. He saw two sets of headlights quickly turn onto the road behind them, giving chase through the swirling dust storm.

"They're coming," Alessandro said, checking his weapon.

"They won't catch us," Sophia said through gritted teeth, her knuckles white as she fought the heavy, power-steering-deprived wheel of the screaming car. "Not on this road."

"The engine is overheating," Alessandro noted, pointing to the dashboard where red warning lights were flashing like desperate distress flares.

"I know!" Sophia yelled back, her gray-blue eyes fixed entirely on the narrow strip of dirt ahead. "The cooling fan circuit is dead! We have ten minutes before the engine block melts into a solid lump of aluminum!"

"Then make those ten minutes count, Chief Warrant Officer," Alessandro said softly, a dark, dangerous thrill stirring in his chest.