She got past two guards, a locked service door, and forty feet of corridor nobody was supposed to walk.

Elena’s heart stopped.

She stood in the doorway of the panic room, her body shielding Sophie and Lily behind her. Marco was bleeding heavily on the floor at her feet, struggling to raise his weapon, but Viktor stepped forward and casually kicked the gun out of his hand.

"Stay down, old man," Viktor growled, pointing his rifle directly at Elena’s chest. "Where is Moretti? Is he hiding under the bed like a coward?"

Elena felt a cold terror gripping her throat, but when she looked down, she saw Sophie staring up at Viktor with wide, horrified eyes, trembling violently. The fragile progress, the bright laughter, the recovery—everything was about to be obliterated by this monster.

Something inside Elena snapped. The terrifying helplessness she had felt three years ago when her husband died vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, fierce motherly fury.

"He's not hiding," Elena said, her voice shaking but surprisingly loud. "He's coming for you."

Viktor laughed—a dark, grating sound. "Is that right? Well, he better hurry. Because I'm taking his little girl first. Let's see how well Lorenzo rules the city when his precious daughter is in a wooden box."

Viktor stepped forward, reaching out a leather-gloved hand to grab Sophie.

"Don't touch her!" Elena screamed.

She didn't think. She grabbed a heavy steel oxygen tank from the medical supply rack beside the panic room door and swung it with all her strength.

CRACK!

The heavy metal cylinder slammed into the side of Viktor’s face. He let out a muffled roar of pain, staggering backward, blood spurting from his broken nose.

"You crazy bitch!" the mercenary beside Viktor yelled, raising his weapon toward Elena.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three sharp, thunderous gunshots echoed through the bedroom.

The mercenary’s eyes went wide, and he collapsed instantly to the floor. The second mercenary turned toward the door, but three more shots tore through his chest before he could raise his rifle.

Standing in the shattered doorway, bathed in the flashing red emergency lights, was Lorenzo Moretti.

His suit jacket was gone. His white shirt was torn and stained with blood and gunpowder. His dark hair was disheveled, falling over eyes that burned with a terrifying, unholy wrath. In his right hand, the tattooed knuckles of Familia held a smoking heavy-caliber pistol.

Viktor spat blood onto the rug, wiping his nose with his sleeve, glaring at Lorenzo. "Moretti..."

"You made a mistake coming into my house, Viktor," Lorenzo said. His voice was terrifyingly calm, devoid of all human emotion. "You made a mistake bringing guns near my children."

Viktor lunged for his dropped assault rifle on the floor.

Lorenzo didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and fired two rounds directly into Viktor’s knees.

Viktor screamed in agony, falling heavily onto his face, clutching his shattered legs, writhing on the carpet.

Lorenzo walked over slowly, standing over the wounded gang leader. He raised his pistol, aiming it directly at the back of Viktor’s head.

"Lorenzo, wait!" Elena’s voice broke through the deafening quiet.

Lorenzo paused, his finger on the trigger, his dark eyes slowly turning to look at her. He looked like a demon rising from hell, cold and unyielding.

"Don't do it in front of them," Elena pleaded, tears streaming down her face, pointing toward the panic room where Sophie and Lily were huddled together, clutching each other. "Please, Lorenzo. Don't let them see this."

Lorenzo looked from Elena to his daughter. Sophie was staring at him—not with fear of him, but with a desperate need for her father to come back to her.

Lorenzo took a deep, shuddering breath. The dark, murderous fury in his eyes slowly receded, replaced once again by the weary, loving father underneath.

He lowered his weapon.

"Marco," Lorenzo said quietly, glancing at his wounded underboss. "Can you walk?"

"I'll... I'll live, Boss," Marco grunted, dragging himself up against the wall.

"Call the clean-up crew," Lorenzo commanded coldly, stepping over Viktor, who was whimpering in pain on the floor. "Remove this trash from my house. Take him to the warehouse. Let the captains decide his fate."

Lorenzo walked past the fallen bodies, stepping into the safety of the panic room. He dropped his gun onto a table, dropped to his knees, and opened his arms.

"Daddy!" Sophie cried out, running into his embrace.

Lorenzo pulled her tight against his chest, burying his face in her dark hair, his body trembling violently as the adrenaline faded. "I've got you, baby. I've got you. You're safe."

Lily scampered over, pushing her way into the hug, holding out Barnaby the lion. "The giant beat the bad guys!" she announced proudly.

Lorenzo let out a ragged, half-sob laugh, wrapping one broad arm around Lily as well, holding both little girls against his chest.

Over their heads, Lorenzo looked up at Elena. She was leaning against the steel doorframe, exhausted, trembling, but smiling through her tears. Lorenzo reached out his other hand, grasping hers tightly.