d58."Half-dead, bleeding, and clutching two newborn girls beneath a freezing New York overpass—that was how the most feared Mafia boss in the city found me.

The glowing screen went black as the video feed cut out.

Inside the quiet penthouse, the atmosphere turned instantly icy. Antonio looked at Elias, waiting for the order that would mobilize fifty armed men to level the Brooklyn docks.

“He’s desperate,” Antonio muttered. “Moretti knows he lost his political leverage when the FBI walked out. Now he’s trying to drag you into an execution trap.”

I stood up, my knees shaking slightly as I looked at Elias. “Don't go. Marcus isn't worth your life. He made his choice when he threw me and the babies into the snow.”

Elias handed the tablet back to Antonio. He walked over to the massive glass window looking out over the flickering city lights, his hands resting casually in his pockets.

“It’s not about Marcus, Ava,” Elias said softly. His reflection in the dark glass showed an expression of complete, unwavering resolve. “Moretti thinks he can use your past to threaten my family. If I allow him to breathe another day, he will spend the next five years targeting you and the girls every time I turn my back.”

He turned around to face me.

“In my world, threats aren't managed. They are eliminated.”

“Then take your security team!” I pleaded, stepping closer to him. “Don't go alone!”

Elias reached out, placing his hands on my shoulders. The sheer warmth of his grip instantly stilled my panic.

“Moretti wants a show of strength,” Elias explained quietly. “If I show up with an army, he stays in the shadows and runs to Miami. If I show up alone, he steps out into the light because he thinks he has the advantage. And that is when he loses.”

He leaned down, pressing his lips gently against my forehead. The gesture was so unexpected, so tender coming from the city’s most dangerous man, that my breath hitched in my chest.

“Stay here with Antonio,” Elias instructed softly. “Look after our daughters. I’ll be back before breakfast.”

An hour later, an unmarked black sedan pulled up to Pier 42 at the desolate Brooklyn harbor. Heavy fog rolled off the freezing water, cloaking the rusted shipping containers in gray mist.

Elias stepped out of the vehicle wearing a long dark overcoat. He walked calmly into the empty center of Warehouse 9, his footsteps echoing against the damp concrete floor.

In the center of the space, tied to a wooden chair beneath a single hanging lightbulb, was Marcus. His face was swollen, his shirt torn. Standing around him were eight heavily armed mercenaries, and in the center stood Vincent Moretti, leaning on a steel cane.

“You actually came alone, Vance,” Moretti cackled, his voice echoing off the corrugated metal walls. “I guess that cheap little street girl really got under your skin.”

Marcus lifted his bloody head, coughing violently as he looked at Elias. “Elias... please!” Marcus begged, his voice high and pathetic. “Tell him to let me go! I’ll sign whatever you want! I’ll give you full legal custody of the girls! Just don't let him kill me!”

Elias didn't even glance at Marcus. His dark eyes remained fixed entirely on Moretti.

“You called me here to clear a debt, Vincent,” Elias said smoothly, taking a slow step forward. “So let’s settle it.”

“Settle it?” Moretti laughed wickedly, raising his revolver. “You walked into my house without your guards, Vance. You’re not settling anything. You’re dying here tonight, and tomorrow, I take over the docks.”

Elias stopped walking. A cold, terrifying smile spread across his face.