The iron gates of the Moretti estate clicked shut, sealing out the damp autumn air of Westchester, but the cold lingered inside the sprawling limestone mansion.

Marcus froze, the silenced Beretta still pressed against Sophia’s cheek for a fraction of a second before he realized his tactical advantage had evaporated. With a curse, he shoved Sophia hard to the concrete floor, grabbed the leather portfolio off the desk, and scrambled backward into the subterranean passage.

"Sophia, stay down!" Dominic roared.

Without hesitation, Dominic lunged into the narrow opening. His massive frame barely cleared the concrete doorframe, but his sheer momentum carried him forward into the dark corridor.

Marcus fired twice. The silenced pops echoed sharply in the confined space, the bullets chipping fragments of concrete from the wall inches from Dominic’s shoulder. Dominic didn't even flinch. He closed the distance with terrifying speed, catching Marcus by the collar of his suit jacket and slamming him against the reinforced wall with enough force to rattle his teeth.

The pistol flew from Marcus’s hand, clattering away into the darkness.

"You Judas," Dominic growled, his fingers tightening around Marcus’s windpipe, lifting the head of security half a foot off the ground. "Ten years. I trusted you with my life, my home, my family."

Marcus clawed frantically at Dominic’s wrists, his face turning a deep, congested purple, his legs kicking uselessly in the air. "I... I did it for... the future..." he choked out.

"Your future ends tonight," Dominic whispered.

Before Marcus could pass out entirely, heavy footsteps echoed from the study behind them. Marcus’s loyal subordinates—three corrupt security guards who had been stationed at the perimeter gates—rushed into the room with drawn weapons, seeing their boss pinned against the wall.

"Drop him, Mr. Moretti!" the lead guard shouted, raising his submachine gun.

Dominic slowly turned his head, his eyes burning with an infernal rage. He didn't drop Marcus; instead, he hurled his traitorous chief of security across the concrete floor like a ragdoll.

Before the guards could pull their triggers, the study door flooded with light and armed men. Marcus’s private security detail—men who had answered directly to Dominic’s father and remained uncorrupted—poured into the room, led by a heavily armored tactical squad.

Clack-clack-clack!

The sound of a dozen assault rifles locking and aiming at the corrupt guards echoed like thunder in the confined space.

"Drop your weapons!" the tactical commander barked. "Drop them now or you'll be buried in the backyard before midnight!"

The three corrupt guards looked at Dominic, then at the overwhelming firepower arrayed against them. Slowly, deliberately, they lowered their weapons and dropped to their knees, raising their hands behind their heads.

Marcus groaned, rolling over on the concrete floor, clutching his bruised throat. He looked up to find Dominic standing directly over him, casting a long, dark shadow that blocked out every source of light in the room.

"Tie them up," Dominic commanded, his voice dropping back into its chillingly calm register. "Take Marcus to the lower vault. Not the warehouse—the actual vault. The one with no windows and no ventilation override."

As the guards moved in to bind the traitors, Dominic turned back toward the secret alcove. Sophia was kneeling on the floor, dusting off her apron, pale but unhurt.

Dominic extended a massive, calloused hand down to her.

Sophia looked up at him, hesitated for a single heartbeat, and placed her small hand in his. He pulled her effortlessly to her feet.

"You saved my son in the ballroom," Dominic said quietly, his voice carrying a deep, resonant gravity. "And tonight, you uncovered the rot inside my own house. You have saved my family twice, Sophia."