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

The guest wing of the Romano estate was shrouded in heavy silence as Gabriele, Marco, and four armed guards moved down the carpeted hallway like shadows.

Federica insisted on following at a safe distance, carrying a tablet synchronized to the laptop’s tracking software.

"The signal is coming from Room 204," Federica whispered into her comms earpiece, watching the digital ping move closer. "The transfer is ninety percent complete."

Gabriele gave Marco a short, lethal nod. Marco raised three fingers, counted down to one, and kicked the heavy oak door off its hinges with a deafening crash.

"Don't move!" Marco roared, sweeping his rifle across the room.

Inside, standing by the French doors leading to the balcony, was Cousin Enzo Romano. He held a satellite smartphone in his hand, his eyes wide with panic as the red light on the screen flashed: TRANSFER COMPLETE.

"Gabriele!" Enzo gasped, backing toward the balcony as six red laser dots centered on his chest. "Wait! It’s not what it looks like!"

Gabriele stepped slowly into the room, his black pistol raised with terrifying stability. "You sold Matteo. And tonight, you tried to murder an infant."

"I didn't want the baby dead!" Enzo screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "Sterling promised me he would just hold Leo for ransom! He said we could force you to step down as head of the family! I was supposed to take over Chicago!"

"You lied to yourself, Enzo," Gabriele said, his voice dropping into a dark, hollow growl. "You allied with Sterling, knowing what he was. You put my brother's child in a cold tunnel."

Suddenly, the glass balcony doors behind Enzo shattered outward in a rain of gunfire.

"Get down!" Marco bellowed, tackling Gabriele to the floor.

Muffled gunshots from silenced automatic rifles echoed through the night air. Outside on the grounds, heavy engines roared to life. A tactical assault team clad in black gear—Sterling’s elite mercenaries—had breached the estate’s outer perimeter using high-frequency signal jammers!

"They're breaching the guest wing!" Marco shouted into his radio as bullets chewed through the walls and furniture. "All teams, converge on the second floor!"

Inside the bedroom, chaos erupted. Enzo tried to sprint toward the balcony to reach his rescue team, but a stray bullet caught him in the shoulder, dropping him to the floor with a agonized shriek.

Gabriele rolled behind an overturned mahogany desk, firing three precise shots out the balcony window, dropping two attackers on the terrace. He turned his head and felt his heart freeze.

Federica was pinned behind a decorative pillar in the hallway, clutching her tablet, her face pale as bullets ricocheted off the marble walls inches from her head!

"Federica!" Gabriele yelled over the roar of gunfire.

A mercenary scaled the balcony, stepping over Enzo's bleeding body, and pointed an assault rifle directly down the corridor toward Federica.

In that fraction of a second, Gabriele didn't think about strategy, business, or the family empire. He only felt an explosive, overwhelming drive to protect the woman who had become his world.

Gabriele broke cover, sprinting into the line of fire. He tackled the mercenary onto the balcony, driving his knee into the man's chest and disarming him with lethal, practiced speed. He fired two swift shots, neutralizing the threat, then grabbed Federica by the arm and pulled her tightly against his chest, shielding her body with his own as he dragged her into the safety of the reinforced hallway.

"Are you hit?" Gabriele demanded, his hands frantically checking her shoulders, her face, her arms. "Look at me, Federica! Are you hit?!"

"I'm... I'm okay!" she gasped, clinging to his tactical vest, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "I'm not hurt!"

Gabriele let out a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead against hers for one brief, intense second. "Thank God."

Marco and the estate security team swept into the corridor, laying down heavy suppressive fire and driving the remaining mercenaries back into the courtyard where the estate guards eliminated them.

Within ten minutes, the gunfire died down. The estate security had held. The breach was contained.

In the bedroom, Enzo lay bleeding on the floor, groaning in pain as Marco pinned him down with a heavy boot.

Federica, still trembling in Gabriele’s protective grip, looked down at the satellite phone Enzo had dropped during the firefight. The screen was still glowing with an active, encrypted audio line.

She picked it up with a bandaged hand and held it to her ear.

A rough, aristocratic voice spoke through the static: "Enzo? Is the baby dead? Did you secure the Romano financial keys?"

Federica looked at Gabriele.

Gabriele took the phone from her hand, holding it to his mouth.

"Arthur Sterling," Gabriele said, his voice as cold as a tombstone. "This is Gabriele Romano. My nephew is safe. My estate is secure. And your rat is bleeding on my floor."