Marco Bellini’s voice was almost lost beneath the thunder rolling over Chicago.

Rain lashed against the reinforced glass of the Lincoln Park safe house as Gabriele Romano personally carried baby Leo to the waiting armored SUV. He held the infant tucked securely inside his custom overcoat, shielding him from the driving Chicago wind.

Behind him walked Federica. She was draped in Gabriele’s heavy cashmere coat, which hung past her knees, its sleeves rolled up to reveal her bandaged hands. A private medical team had spent twenty minutes cleaning her cuts, applying salve to her bruised collarbone, and wrapping her swollen knuckles. Through it all, she hadn't shed a single tear. She had only asked one question: Is Leo warm enough?

"Get in," Gabriele said softly, holding open the door of the middle SUV.

Federica hesitated, her eyes scanning the dark street where eight heavily armed men stood guard, rifles raised toward the surrounding shadows. "Where are we going?"

"My private residence downtown," Gabriele replied, his voice a low, soothing baritone against the howl of the storm. "It’s a fortress. No one enters without my personal biometrics. You and Leo will be safe there."

She climbed inside, settling into the plush leather seat. The moment Gabriele placed Leo back into her arms, the tension in her shoulders melted away. The baby stirred, making a tiny snuffling sound, before sinking back into a deep, peaceful sleep against her chest.

Gabriele climbed in beside her, closing the door with a heavy, vacuum-sealed thud. Marco took the front passenger seat, his eyes glued to the side mirrors as the convoy tore through the rain-soaked streets toward the heart of Chicago.

"The council is assembling at the estate," Marco reported without turning around. "Uncle Julian, Cousin Enzo, and Capo Vincent are already in the boardroom. They know Leo is alive, but they don't know who saved him."

"Good," Gabriele said coldly. "Keep it that way."

He turned his head to look at Federica. In the dim amber glow of the streetlights flashing past the tinted windows, her profile looked delicate yet impossibly strong.

"You shouldn't be at this meeting," Gabriele murmured.

"I need to be there," Federica said, her quiet voice carrying a sharp edge of determination. She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up her nose, though one frame was slightly bent from her struggle in the tunnel. "Whoever called the kidnappers knew the exact routing codes of our financial logistics. That isn't just security clearance, Mr. Romano—that's master-level system access."

"Gabriele," he corrected her again, his dark eyes searching hers.

Federica swallowed hard, the warmth of his proximity making her heartbeat quicken despite her exhaustion. "Gabriele. I built the back-end encryption for those routing servers three months ago. If someone bypassed my firewalls, they didn't hack them. They used a master override key."

Gabriele’s jaw locked. "Only four people possess a master key."

"Then one of those four people ordered the execution of a six-month-old child," Federica said softly, her gaze dropping to Leo's serene face. "And I want to see their eyes when they realize he survived."

Fifteen minutes later, the convoy swept into the underground garage of the Romano ancestral estate in the Gold Coast. The estate was a stone castle built by Gabriele’s grandfather, reinforced with military-grade steel and guarded by thirty elite operatives.

Gabriele escorted Federica and Leo upstairs to his personal master suite—a grand, dimly lit sanctuary of dark walnut, white marble, and bulletproof floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking Lake Michigan. He called for his personal housekeeper, a loyal elderly woman named Maria, to set up a crib in the adjoining room.

"Stay here," Gabriele told Federica, standing near the doorway. His tall, broad frame seemed to dominate the room, yet his posture toward her was surprisingly gentle. "Maria will bring you food and clean clothes. Nothing in this house can hurt you."

Federica looked up at him, her dark brown eyes holding his gaze. "Be careful down there, Gabriele. A wounded snake bites hardest when it knows it's trapped."

A ghost of a smile touched Gabriele’s lips—a rare, mesmerizing sight that sent a strange flutter through her chest. "Let them try to bite."

He closed the door, turning his face back into stone as he walked down the grand marble staircase toward the subterranean boardroom.

The room was heavy with the smell of expensive cigars and aged bourbon. Three men sat around a massive mahogany table: Julian Romano, Gabriele’s senior uncle; Enzo Romano, his ambitious thirty-two-year-old cousin; and Vincent Moretti, a hardened capo who managed the family's shipping docks.

When Gabriele walked in, followed by Marco, the three men stood up.

"Gabriele!" Uncle Julian exclaimed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Thank God! Marco said the boy is safe. Is it true? Where is Leo?"

"Leo is upstairs under heavy guard," Gabriele said, taking his place at the head of the table. He did not sit down. He stood, resting his large hands on the polished wood, leaning forward. "He is unharmed."

Enzo let out a breath, rubbing his neck. "Who did this, Gabriele? Was it Arthur Sterling? We should mobilize every crew in the West Loop and burn his warehouses to the ground tonight!"

"Sterling provided the muscle," Gabriele said, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "But Sterling didn't plan it. Sterling didn't know Leo’s route under Lower Wacker Drive. And Sterling certainly didn't have the master encryption key to shut down our security tracking."

A heavy, suffocating silence descended upon the boardroom.

Vincent Moretti cleared his throat, his heavy brow furrowing. "What are you saying, Boss? Are you saying someone in this room—"

"I am saying," Gabriele interrupted coldly, "that eight months ago, my brother Matteo died in a car crash because his route was leaked. Tonight, Matteo’s son was taken because his route was leaked. And the woman who saved Leo heard the caller give an explicit order."

Enzo’s eyes narrowed. "What woman? What order?"

Gabriele leaned in closer, his dark eyes pinning each man in turn. "'Make sure the baby doesn't survive the night. We need another Romano funeral.'"

Uncle Julian gasped, dropping into his chair. "Mother of God..."

"There is a traitor among the inner circle," Gabriele declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Until I find out who sold my brother and my nephew, no one leaves this estate. No phone calls. No financial transfers. No contact with the outside world."

"You can't hold us hostage in our own house, Gabriele!" Enzo snapped, standing up, his face flushing red. "We are family!"