"My husband knew our unborn son was in distress, but when his lieutenant begged him to come home, he looked at his mistress and said, “Not yet.”

Peace, however, was an expensive commodity in New York.

While Lucian had spent months rebuilding himself from the inside out, the vacuum left by his departure from the street-level logistics networks had created dangerous ripples.

Salvatore Vance, a ruthless logistics broker with ties to the corrupt elements of the waterfront, had spent months trying to exploit the split between Lucian and Serena. Vance had backed Bianca Romano’s father, and when the Romano family collapsed, Vance lost forty million dollars in illicit port contracts.

He blamed Serena Moretti.

On a rainy Thursday evening in early March, Serena left the Moretti corporate offices late. She had taken Leo to the executive daycare on the 10th floor, wanting to keep him close during an intensive audit.

Accompanied by two armed bodyguards, Serena carried three-month-old Leo in his car seat down to the underground executive parking garage.

The garage was cavernous and dimly lit, shadows stretching between concrete pillars.

As they approached the armored SUV, the garage lights suddenly flickered and died, plunging the floor into pitch-black darkness.

“Ambush!” the lead bodyguard shouted, drawing his sidearm.

Tires screeched in the darkness. A black van roared around the corner, its high beams blinding Serena.

Gunfire erupted.

The sharp, deafening cracks of automatic weapons echoed through the concrete chamber. Serena dropped to her knees behind a concrete pillar, curling her entire body over Leo’s car seat, her heart pounding in sheer terror. Leo began to scream, terrified by the thunderous noise.

“Serena!” a voice roared through the gunfire.

Out of the darkness, a heavy black vehicle slammed violently into the side of the attackers’ van, crumpling its engine block with a horrific metallic crunch.

Lucian leaped from the driver’s side of his car.

He didn't have a weapon. He didn't have armor. He had been parked outside the garage across the street, as he had every evening for the past two months, watching from a distance simply to ensure she reached home safely.

Lucian sprinted through the line of fire, ignoring the ricocheting bullets sparking off the concrete walls.

One of Vance’s gunmen leaned out of the van’s shattered window, raising a handgun toward the pillar where Serena was huddled over her child.

“Serena! Stay down!” Lucian screamed.

He threw himself across the open gap, tackling the gunman through the shattered window of the van just as a shot rang out.

A bullet ripped through Lucian’s left shoulder, but he didn't stop. Driven by a primal, ferocious need to protect his family, Lucian disarmed the man with a brutal blow to the jaw, slamming the van door shut against him.

Sirens wailed in the distance. The building’s automated security protocols activated, locking down the garage exits and flooding the room with emergency sirens and flashing red lights. The remaining attackers, realizing they were trapped, abandoned their vehicle and fled toward the pedestrian fire exits, where building security intercepted them.

Silence crashed back over the garage, broken only by the wail of sirens and baby Leo’s crying.

Serena remained curled on the concrete floor, trembling violently, her hands clamped over her baby’s ears.

Heavy, staggering footsteps approached.

Lucian collapsed to his knees beside the pillar. Blood poured freely from his shoulder, soaking his white shirt in dark crimson. His face was gray with pain, his breathing ragged and shallow.

Yet his eyes darted frantically over her and the car seat.

“Serena...” he gasped, clutching his wounded shoulder with one trembling hand. “Are you hit? Is Leo... is our son safe?”

Serena looked up.

She saw the blood spreading across his chest. She saw the absolute terror in his eyes—not terror for his own life, but terror that a single scratch might have touched her or their child.

“We’re safe,” Serena cried, tears spilling over her cheeks as she reached out, her trembling fingers pressing against his uninjured cheek. “Lucian, you’re bleeding. You’ve been shot!”

Lucian closed his eyes, slumping back against the concrete pillar with a faint, shuddering sigh of profound relief.

“It doesn't matter,” Lucian whispered, a faint, bloody smile touching his lips. “I made it. This time... I didn't say 'not yet.' I made it in time.”