THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO PUT HIS PREGNANT DAUGHTER IN A CAB BEFORE THEIR ENGAGEMENT DINNER—BUT WHEN I WALKED HER INTO THE DINING ROOM, LUCA MORETTI DROPPED HIS FORK AND WHISPERED, “YOU’RE HAVING A BABY?”

The world went pure white and screaming loud.

The concussive force knocked me off my feet, slamming my shoulder against the concrete floor. Ears ringing with a high-pitched whine, I scrambled through the thick smoke, my instincts taking over.

"Emily!" I screamed, through the ringing sound.

Through the haze, I saw Emily curled in a corner near the old laundry sink, sobbing and clutching her belly. I threw my body over hers, using my own frame to shield her from flying debris and gunfire.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Automatic gunfire erupted at the top of the stairs. Marco and Luca’s guards fired upward into the smoke, taking cover behind the heavy iron cabinet.

"Hostile entry!" Marco shouted, blood dripping from his left ear. "They followed us here! It's the Morellos!"

Three heavily armed men in tactical gear pushed down the stairwell, firing submachine guns into the basement. One of Luca’s guards crumpled to the floor, hit in the thigh.

Luca didn't flinch. He stood tall in the center of the crossfire, firing his heavy pistol with lethal precision. Two of the attackers tumbled backward down the steps, motionless.

"Claire! Get Emily into the crawlspace behind the water heater! NOW!" Luca bellowed over the roar of gunfire.

I pulled Emily up by her arms. "Come on, Emily! Keep low!"

We crawled on hands and knees behind the large rusted water heater in the far back corner of the basement. Tucked behind it was a tiny wooden access panel leading beneath the porch. I shoved Emily through first, then squeezed my body in right behind her, pulling the wooden panel shut just as another volley of bullets shattered the concrete walls above us.

In the dark crawlspace, surrounded by dirt and old piping, Emily was hyperventilating, tears pouring down her face.

"My baby..." she sobbed, clutching her stomach. "Claire, my baby... I’m having contractions..."

"Hey, look at me!" I whispered urgently, taking her wet face in my hands. "Look at me, Emily. Breathe. Deep breath through your nose. Your father is out there. He won't let anything happen to you. I won't let anything happen to you."

Outside the panel, the gunfire slowed to a tense, terrifying silence.

"Moretti!" a rough voice shouted from the center of the basement. "Drop the weapon, or I put a bullet in your fiancée's head!"

Through a small crack in the wooden panel, I peeked into the basement.

Standing near the smashed mint-green cabinet was a tall, scarred man wearing a heavy leather jacket—Dominic Morello, the underboss of the Morello syndicate. He had his left arm wrapped tightly around Vanessa’s neck, pulling her in front of him as a human shield, pressing the barrel of a chrome revolver against her temple.

Vanessa was hyperventilating, her red dress torn, weeping hysterically. "Dominic, please! I opened the door for you! I did what you asked!"

"Shut up, you stupid bitch," Dominic spat. He glared across the room at Luca, who was standing behind a concrete pillar, his gun trained directly on Dominic's forehead.

"It's over, Luca," Dominic sneered. "Give me the ledger and the key, and I walk out of here. Otherwise, your pretty bride dies right here, and my men upstairs blow this house into toothpicks."

Luca looked at Vanessa.

For two years, he had shared his bed with her. He had offered her his name, his home, and his protection. And she had betrayed him in the most unimaginable way.

Luca’s expression did not soften. His eyes were cold steel.

"You can have her, Dominic," Luca said quietly.