Mister, put your dog in timeout!” Three-year-old Lucy Bennett marched into the private meeting of the most feared man in Chicago with one hand on her hip and the other gripping what

The master study smelled of old leather, unburned tobacco, and cold iron. The floor-to-ceiling monitors on the wall displayed live feeds from every corner of the Lake Forest perimeter: thermal imaging scanners sweeping the tree line, high-definition pan-tilt cameras monitoring the iron gates, and facial-recognition software scanning every vehicle within a three-mile radius.

Vincent sat behind the heavy walnut desk, the serpent signet ring sitting in front of him under the harsh light of the desk lamp. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing the intricate ink along his forearms and the faded scars of old firefights.

Mason burst into the room, tossing a thick dossier onto the desk. "We ran the courier who dropped it downtown. Total dead end. A homeless kid paid fifty bucks cash by a man in a gray trench coat outside Union Station. No plates on the drop car, security cams blinded by an infrared strobe."

"And the forensics on the box?" Vincent asked without looking up.

"Clean. Wiped with industrial solvent. No prints, no DNA." Mason ran a hand through his cropped hair, exhaling sharply. "Vincent, if Vance survived that drop into the harbor four years ago, he’s been lying dormant for half a decade. Why now? Why wait until you went legitimate, until you married Nora?"

"Because a monster doesn't strike when you have nothing to lose," Vincent said, his voice deadly quiet. "Julian Vance knows that four years ago, I didn't care if I lived or died. I was an animal hunting other animals. You couldn't hurt me because there was nothing inside me to break."

Vincent looked up, his dark eyes burning with cold fury. "Now, I have Nora. I have Lucy. He waited until my world was built so he could tear it down room by room."

Downstairs, the soft sound of piano keys drifting through the ventilation shafts caught Vincent's ear. Nora was trying to keep Lucy calm, playing nursery rhymes in the living room while Bishop stood guard at the double doors.

Vincent stood up, sliding the signet ring into his pocket. "Where is Viktor?"

Mason hesitated. "Viktor retired to the docks after the war. He runs the shipping manifests at Pier 42. He told Frank he doesn't want any part of the syndicate business anymore."

"He doesn't have a choice," Vincent growled, pulling his jacket on. "Julian Vance was Viktor's cousin. If Vance is breathing, Viktor knows where the oxygen is coming from. Bring the car around. Mason, you stay here. Triple the outer perimeter. If a leaf falls the wrong way, shoot it."

Before heading to the garage, Vincent walked down the grand staircase into the living room. Lucy was sitting on Nora’s lap, banging her small hands playfully on the ivory keys while Nora sang softly under her breath. But Nora’s eyes were darting toward the heavy velvet curtains, her hands trembling slightly against the child’s shoulders.

When Nora saw Vincent standing in the archway, she stood up, setting Lucy down gently. "Lucy, baby, go play with Captain Carrot and Bishop in the play nook for a minute. Mommy needs to talk to Daddy."

"Okay, Mommy!" Lucy chirped, completely oblivious to the war drum beating in the walls. She bounded across the room, wrapping her little arms around Bishop's neck, tumbling onto the thick rug with the dog licking her cheek.

Nora crossed the room, stopping inches from Vincent. Her face was pale, but her eyes held a fierce, unyielding resolve that hadn't been there when he first met her. "Who is Julian Vance, Vincent?"

Vincent looked at her, seeing the mother who had once faced down loan sharks with nothing but a frying pan to protect her child. "A ghost from my past. A man who thinks he can settle an old score by threatening my home."

"Are we in danger?"

"Not while I have breath in my lungs," he vowed, reaching out to cup her cheek with a scarred, calloused hand.

"That's not what I asked, Vincent," Nora said, her voice dropping to a trembling whisper. "I know you can fight. I know you can kill. But look at her." She gestured toward Lucy, who was currently tying a blue ribbon around Bishop’s ear. "She was finally starting to sleep through the night without nightmares. If this life catches up to her—"

"It won't," Vincent interrupted fiercely, leaning in until their foreheads touched. "I built this fortress for you. I dismantled every gang in Chicago to make this city safe for my family. If Julian Vance crawled out of hell to take that away, I will personally drag him back."