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

The Port of Chicago at 6:00 AM was a desolate landscape of towering iron cranes, stacked shipping containers, and freezing mist rolling off Lake Michigan.

A motorcade of four black Romano SUVs tore into the industrial sector, stopping three hundred yards from Terminal 4. A massive container ship, the Panama Star, sat idling in the deepwater berth, its heavy diesel engines chugging black smoke into the morning air.

Inside the lead command vehicle, Federica sat beside Gabriele, her fingers flying over a high-powered tactical laptop connected to the port’s local network.

"I'm through the outer perimeter security," Federica reported calmly, though her heart was pounding. "Overriding the gate access in three... two... one... Now."

Ahead of them, the heavy steel security gates of Terminal 4 slid open with a loud screech of hydraulic pumps.

"Go!" Gabriele ordered into his radio.

The SUVs surged forward, screeching onto the wet tarmac of the pier, blocking the gangway of the Panama Star.

Dozens of armed men scattered across the deck of the ship and behind shipping containers opened fire. The air filled with the deafening chatter of automatic weapons and the sharp ping of bullets hitting the SUV’s reinforced armor.

"Stay inside!" Gabriele told Federica, grabbing his tactical rifle. He looked at her, his dark eyes ablaze with fierce emotion. "No matter what happens, do not leave this vehicle."

Before she could answer, Gabriele cupped her cheek, pulled her forward, and pressed a hard, possessive, burning kiss against her lips.

Federica gasped, her mind spinning, her senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the heat of his mouth, and the raw promise implicit in his touch.

"I am coming back to you," Gabriele growled against her lips.

Then he opened the door and stepped out into the storm of fire.

Gabriele moved like a predator unleashed. Flanked by Marco and ten elite Romano soldiers, he pushed up the gangway, his rifle picking off Vincent’s mercenaries with lethal, terrifying precision.

Federica watched through the thick bulletproof glass, her hand resting on her lips where his kiss still burned. Her blood ran hot with fear for him, but as she watched him move—an unstoppable force carving through the shadows of the docks—she knew Arthur Sterling and Vincent Moretti had severely underestimated the man they tried to destroy.

On the main deck of the ship, Gabriele kicked open the door to the captain's bridge.

Vincent Moretti was frantically trying to force the ship’s captain to cast off the mooring lines. He spun around, drawing his revolver, but Gabriele was faster.

A single shot rang out.

Vincent collapsed against the control console, clutching his leg, screaming in agony as his gun clattered across the floor.

Gabriele stepped into the bridge, kicking the gun away. He stood over the bleeding capo, his face emotionless, his eyes black as the deepest ocean.

"Gabriele! Please!" Vincent gasped, clutching his wounded thigh. "It was Sterling! He paid me! Ten million! He threatened my family!"

"You killed my brother, Vincent," Gabriele said, his voice dropping into a whisper that chilled the room. "Matteo trusted you. He called you uncle."

"Gabriele—"

"You don't get to say his name," Gabriele said softly.