A six-year-old girl is cleaning a Boston mafia boss's private study at two in the morning, her baby sister strapped to her back with a housekeeper's shawl. She is terrified of one thing: that if she does not finish the room, her mother will lose the only job keeping them off the street. What she does not know is that Roman Duca — the most feared man in Boston — is standing silently in the doorway, watching her. Then she stops. She tilts her head toward the library wall, listening for something no adult in that house has heard in eleven years, and asks him a question that will tear his family open from the inside.

"Silas!" Roman roared.

Before the steel blade could reach Elena’s neck, Roman vaulted over his mahogany desk with terrifying speed. His massive hand caught Silas by the throat mid-air, slamming the older man down onto the hard oak floor with a force that shattered the ivory cane into a dozen pieces.

The hidden blade clattered across the rug, spinning until it hit the leg of the sofa.

Silas choked, his hands clawing uselessly at Roman's iron grip around his throat. "Roman... please... family... we're blood..."

"You stopped being blood the day you put my sister in the dark," Roman hissed, his knees pinning Silas’s shoulders to the floor.

Suddenly, the heavy glass windows of the study shattered inward!

CRASH!

Sniper fire erupted from the dark rooftops across Mount Vernon Street! High-caliber rounds tore through the velvet drapes, splintering the oak bookcases, smashing the glass cabinets, and ripping into the plaster walls.

"GET DOWN!" Dominic screamed, tackling Elena to the floor and covering her body with his own thick frame.

The capos scrambled for cover behind the leather sofas and heavy desks as bullets rained into the room.

Silas had not come to the mansion alone. Knowing that his plot might be unraveling, he had hired a team of mercenary hitmen from the New York syndicate to surround the estate grounds, waiting for his signal—or the sound of gunfire—to eliminate everyone inside the study and take the manor by force.

"Clear the windows!" Roman commanded, pulling both gold Colt .45s from his belt.

He rolled across the carpet as a sniper bullet tore a six-inch crater into the floorboards where he had been standing seconds before. He came up on one knee behind the marble fireplace, raising his handguns toward the shattered window frame.

Through the rain and fog outside, Roman saw three muzzle flashes illuminating the dark stone balcony across the courtyard.

Roman squeezed the triggers in rapid succession.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The heavy .45 rounds shattered the balcony railing. Two hitmen screamed, tumbling over the stone balustrade and crashing into the iron gates thirty feet below.

"Dominic! Get Elena and the girl to the panic room in the basement!" Roman ordered, firing another round to keep the remaining snipers pinned down.

"I'm not leaving you, boss!" Dominic yelled back, pulling his broad automatic pistol and firing blind through the broken glass.

"That's an order, Dominic! Protect my family!"

Dominic hesitated for half a second, then grabbed Elena under her arm, motioning for Vic and the other capos to follow him down the rear service stairs toward the safe house beneath the cellar.

As Dominic pushed open the service door, a little figure darted out from the upper hallway—it was Mia, carrying her baby sister in the shawl, her eyes wide with terror as the thunderous sound of gunfire echoed through the mansion.

"Mia! Down here!" Dominic shouted, reaching out his arm to scoop the little girl into his embrace.

Mia didn't cry. She held her baby sister tight against her chest, ducking her head under Dominic’s heavy coat as he shielded her from flying glass and debris, carrying both children down the stairs toward safety.

Inside the study, Roman was left alone with Silas.

Silas was crawling across the blood-stained rug toward the doorway, clutching his bruised throat, desperate to reach his men outside.

Roman walked up behind him, his heavy boots crushing the splintered glass beneath his feet. He stepped onto Silas’s hand, crushing his fingers against the oak floorboards.

Silas screamed in agony. "Roman! Wait! I have thirty million dollars in Swiss accounts! It’s yours! Everything is yours! Just let me walk out that door!"

Roman leaned down, grabbing Silas by the collar of his expensive charcoal suit, dragging him across the room toward the open seam of the hidden wall behind the bookcase.

Silas realized where he was being taken, and his face turned a translucent shade of green.

"No! No, Roman! Not in there! Please! Shoot me! Put a bullet in my head, but don't put me in the wall!" Silas shrieked, weeping hysterically, kicking his legs against the floor. "I can't breathe in the dark! Roman, please!"

"Eleven years, Silas," Roman whispered, his eyes completely black with unyielding, absolute judgment. "My sister spent eleven years in this hole. Let's see how long you survive."

Roman shoved Silas into the narrow stone opening, throwing him down the dark spiral stairs. Silas tumbled down the steps with a sickening crunch of bones, screaming into the darkness below.

Roman pulled the heavy mahogany bookcase shut.

The steel latch clicked into place.