When I grow up, I’m going to marry you.” The knife in Alessandro Romano’s hand stopped halfway to his plate.

The sound of shattering glass and heavy gunfire ripped through the quiet halls of the west wing like a lightning strike.

In a fraction of a second, the brooding, solitary widower vanished.

Alessandro moved with terrifying speed. He dropped his scotch glass onto the carpet, reached beneath his jacket, and pulled a matte-black firearm from a shoulder holster. In one smooth motion, he grabbed Clara by the arm, dragging her and Sophie behind the heavy, bulletproof mahogany wardrobe near the far corner of the bedroom.

"Stay down! Do not move!" Alessandro commanded, his voice dropping into a lethal, crystal-clear tone of total combat authority.

"Dominic! Down!"

Marco DeLuca burst through the master suite doorway, a submachine gun pressed against his shoulder, his face splattered with fresh blood.

"It’s the Moretti crew!" Marco shouted over the sound of automatic fire echoing up the grand staircase. "They bribed the outer gate guards! Twenty men inside the lower courtyard! They know you're in the west wing!"

Alessandro’s eyes went dark as pitch. "How did they breach the perimeter without the alarms?"

"Traitor in the security room," Marco spat, ducking as a volley of bullets tore through the hallway drywall outside, spraying plaster dust across the doorway. "We're holding the grand stairs, but they brought heavy tactical gear! They’re coming for your head, Boss!"

Clara covered Sophie’s ears, pulling the screaming toddler tightly against her chest, her own body shaking uncontrollably. "Oh God... oh God..."

Alessandro looked down at Clara. His eyes held no panic, no fear—only an absolute, terrifying calm. He reached out, his hand grasping Clara’s shoulder with a grip like iron.

"Listen to me, Clara," Alessandro said, his voice cutting cleanly through the chaos. "The master bedroom has a hidden service elevator behind that wardrobe. It leads directly to the underground wine cellar and the escape tunnel beneath the garage."

"What about you?" Clara choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I am going to kill every man who entered my home," Alessandro replied simply.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a small silver key on a chain, and pressed it into Clara’s palm.

"Take Sophie. Use the elevator. The tunnel key opens the iron grate at the end of the cellar. Marco’s men are waiting at the boathouse."

"No!" Sophie cried out from beneath Clara’s arm, her small voice terrified. "Don't leave, sad man!"

Alessandro paused. He looked down at the little girl who was clinging to her mother, her pale face streaked with tears.

Slowly, Alessandro knelt down in front of her, completely ignoring the bullets splattering against the hallway walls outside. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gray pebble.

He placed it in Sophie’s tiny hand.

"Hold this for me," Alessandro murmured, his thumb gently wiping a tear from the child’s cheek. "If you keep it safe, I’ll come collect it from you at the boathouse. Deal?"

Sophie swallowed her sobs, looking at the stone, then nodded fiercely. "Deal."

Alessandro stood up, turning to Marco. "Cover the elevator. I’ll clear the corridor."

"Boss, it’s twenty to two!" Marco warned.

Alessandro’s face twisted into a lethal, beautiful smile—the smile of an apex predator that had finally been given a reason to hunt again.