So at 7:12 on a gray Tuesday morning, the most feared man in the city gave an order no one expected.

By midnight, the estate was secured. Twenty of Dante Valenti’s best men lay dead or captured on the grounds. The police—fully aware of who controlled the city’s political apparatus—stayed far away while Alessandro’s cleanup crews swept the evidence clean.

In the basement holding cells beneath the estate, Marco finished interrogating the surviving mercenary captain.

Alessandro walked into the dim concrete room, tossing his bloodied jacket onto a chair. He rolled up his white shirt sleeves.

"He talked, Boss," Marco said, handing Alessandro a tablet. "Dante is hiding at the old iron foundry near the river docks. He’s preparing to board a cargo ship for South America at dawn."

Alessandro stared at the coordinates on the screen. "Gather the strike team. All of them. We leave in ten minutes."

Before heading to the vehicles, Alessandro walked back upstairs to the master guest suite.

The room was quiet now. Medical staff had checked Elena over; she had a minor bruise on her temple, but was otherwise unharmed. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a warm cup of tea, watching Mia and Sophia asleep together in the small crib brought into her room for safety.

Elena looked up as Alessandro entered. She saw the tactical vest he now wore over his black shirt, the twin holsters strapped to his chest.

She stood up, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps.

"You're going after him," she said, her voice steady.

"He tried to kill you," Alessandro replied, his tone icy and absolute. "He threatened our children. As long as Dante breathes, there is no peace for this family."

Our children. The word hung in the quiet room, sweet and heavy.

Elena reached out, her soft hands laying flat against the hard Kevlar vest covering his chest. She looked up into his fierce dark eyes.

"Bring yourself back to us," Elena whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Do you hear me, Alessandro Moretti? Do not leave Sophia without a father. And do not leave me without..."

She stopped, her voice catching in her throat.

Alessandro captured her face in both of his massive hands, his thumb gently tracing her cheekbone. "Without what, Elena?"

"Without the man I've come to love," she confessed softly, dropping her gaze.

Alessandro’s heart thundered like a war drum. He lifted her chin gently, forcing her to look at him, and brought his lips down onto hers in a fierce, passionate kiss.

Elena gasped softly against his mouth, her arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss was desperate, wild, filled with the terrifying realization of how precious life had become.

When he pulled back, their foreheads rested together, both of them breathing heavily.

"I will come back," Alessandro vowed against her lips. "Because my life belongs to you now."

He turned and walked out of the room without looking back, his heart forged in steel.

Thirty minutes later, three black SUVs tore down the rain-slicked highway toward the river docks. The sky was heavy with dark clouds, lightning illuminating the industrial skyline of Chicago.