The entire restaurant went silent the moment I touched the enormous black dog sitting beside a stranger's table.

The salty smell of the Hudson River mixed with the sharp scent of diesel fuel as our convoy of black SUVs pulled up outside the sprawling, corrugated-metal shipping warehouse at Pier 42.

The area was pitch black, illuminated only by the harsh amber glow of overhead streetlights cutting through a thick coastal fog.

Dante signaled silently to his men. Within seconds, a dozen elite tactical operatives fanned out, sealing every exit, alley, and perimeter door surrounding the warehouse.

"Stay in the vehicle, Elena," Dante whispered, leaning over the center console to cup my cheek. "Orion, guard."

Orion let out a low, deep rumble, resting his massive paws on the back of the front seat, his amber eyes locked firmly on the warehouse doors.

"Be careful," I whispered, pressing my hand against Dante’s cheek.

Dante turned his head, pressing a warm kiss into my palm before stepping out into the cold night air.

With Marcus and three armed enforcers flanking him, Dante walked up to the heavy sliding metal door of the warehouse, which stood slightly ajar, leaking a dim yellow light from within.

"Salvatore!" Dante’s voice boomed across the empty pier, carrying an authority that could curdle blood. "It's over! Come out now, and I might let you draw your last breath on your own terms!"

A harsh, mocking laugh echoed from inside the warehouse.

"Dante Moretti! Always so confident!" Salvatore Rossi shouted back. Through the gap in the metal door, we could see Rossi standing in the center of the vast, shadowy room, holding a revolver loosely in his hand, looking ragged, desperate, and unhinged. "You think you won? You brought an accountant into a war, Moretti! You think she's safe?"

Before Dante could react, a side door near the loading dock burst open, and a rogue gunman grabbed me by the hair, dragging me out of the SUV before I could even scream. Cold steel pressed sharply against my temple.

"Drop your weapons, Moretti!" Rossi screamed from inside, stepping forward as the gunman held me hostage. "Drop your guns or the girl dies right here!"

My breath caught. Through the fog, I saw Dante freeze. The color drained entirely from his face, replaced by a terrifying, murderous rage that made him look like a literal demon.

"Let her go, Rossi," Dante growled, taking a slow step forward, his hands raised slightly. "This is between you and me."

"It's between all of us!" Rossi snarled, raising his own weapon.

In that split second, Rossi made a fatal mistake: he took his eyes off Orion.

The back window of the SUV had been rolled down halfway. With an explosive burst of raw power, Orion launched his entire hundred-and-thirty-pound frame right through the open window, shattering the remaining glass into a cascade of sparkling shards.

Before the gunman holding me could pull the trigger, Orion hit him square in the chest, tearing him away from me and slamming him onto the concrete with bone-crushing force.

"Now!" Dante roared.

Marcus and the tactical team opened fire with non-lethal suppression rounds, swarming the warehouse in a coordinated flash of tactical precision. Rossi tried to raise his weapon toward Dante, but Dante was faster—his pistol cracked once, striking Rossi’s gun hand and sending the weapon clattering across the concrete floor.

Within seconds, Rossi and his remaining men were pinned to the ground, disarmed and utterly defeated.

Silence swept over the pier, broken only by the distant crashing of waves against the pylons.

Dante didn't look at Rossi. He dropped his weapon, sprinted across the pavement, and pulled me tightly into his arms, burying his face in my neck as his hands shook with residual adrenaline.