The lake wind bit into Marin’s soaked scrubs, but she barely felt it. The adrenaline coursing through her veins kept the hypothermia at bay, though her teeth chattered so violently her jaw ached.

Raphael arrived in Filomena’s wing in less than forty seconds.

He shut the door to the medical kitchen, his dark suit jacket unbuttoned, his face dark with tension. “What happened?”

Marin stepped close to him, her voice lowered to a barely audible whisper. “Your uncle Victor was just in here.”

Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “Victor? He’s not allowed on this floor without my security guards present.”

“He walked in while I was prepping her evening meds,” Marin said, her hands trembling slightly despite her best efforts. “He tried to intimidate me, Raphael. He told me Filomena’s memories were ‘dark things that belonged in the grave,’ and that it was dangerous for an outsider to listen to her.”

Raphael’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. “That bastard.”

“That’s not all,” Marin continued, her green eyes locking onto his. “On his right hand… on his pinky finger. He was wearing a silver signet ring.”

Raphael went utterly motionless. The air in the room seemed to freeze.

“A wolf’s head?” Raphael whispered, his voice dangerously low.

“Yes,” Marin said. “A howling wolf engraved on tarnished silver.”

Raphael turned away, pacing toward the window, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. When he turned back, his face was a mask of cold, lethal rage.

“In 1986,” Raphael said quietly, “the syndicate that controlled the Chicago docks was known as the Lupo faction—The Wolves. They were wiped out or absorbed by rival groups thirty years ago. My grandfather refused to let them use our shipping lines to smuggle narcotics.”

“Victor works in your shipping division,” Marin said, the pieces assembling in her mind with terrifying speed. “He’s the vice-president of international shipping.”

“Victor was twenty-five when my grandfather was murdered,” Raphael said, his dark eyes burning. “He was always jealous of my grandfather’s control. He wanted the fast money. The syndicate money.”

He walked back toward Marin, stopping inches from her. The proximity of his body, the scent of expensive cedar and rain lingering on his coat, made Marin’s head spin, but his intensity kept her grounded.

“Forty years ago,” Raphael said, “my grandmother found out Victor was working with the Lupo faction. She threatened to expose him to my grandfather. Before she could, my grandfather was executed. Victor made my grandmother believe it was an outside hitman. But if she kept that notebook…”

“The notebook names the people Victor bribed to hide his involvement,” Marin realized, her voice shaking. “She’s kept it for forty years because she was waiting for a time when Victor couldn't hurt you!”

“And now,” Raphael said, “her memory is slipping. She started talking about the blue door again—the house where they lived when Victor was a boy. Victor realized her dementia was bringing the truth back to the surface. He tried to have her drowned before she could tell me.”

“We need to take her away from here, Raphael,” Marin said urgently, reaching out and laying her hand on his forearm. She didn't realize she’d touched him until she felt the iron-hard muscle beneath his sleeve. “If Victor realizes I saw the ring, he’ll try again. Tonight.”

Raphael looked down at her hand on his arm, his dark eyes softening for a fraction of a second before hardening into steel. He placed his large, warm hand over hers, squeezing it gently.

“No,” Raphael said softly. “We don't run from my estate. We turn it into a cage.”

He pulled his encrypted phone from his pocket, pressed a single speed-dial button, and brought it to his ear.

“Marcus,” Raphael said into the receiver. “Initiate Lockout Protocol Bravo. Seal the perimeter. Cut the external communications for Victor’s floor. And tell the tactical team… we’re taking the vice-president into custody.”

Before Raphael could finish his sentence, the fire alarm system in the estate suddenly began to blare—a deafening, piercing screech that echoed through the hallways.

The lights in the wing flickered violently and died, plunging the room into absolute darkness.

Emergency red backup lights clicked on a second later, bathing the room in a blood-red glow.