The porcelain cup trembled in Elena Cruz’s hands before it ever touched the mahogany desk.

At precisely 9:45 p.m., the lights inside the Symphony Center flickered once, twice, and died.

A collective gasp echoed across the ballroom as emergency backup lights cast an eerie crimson glow over the guests. Screams erupted as the loud crackle of distant gunshots echoed from the direction of the lakefront docks.

Christian materialized instantly at Damian’s side, his weapon drawn low beneath his coat. “Boss! It’s Moretti. They’ve launched an assault on Dock 4. They’re trying to burn the shipping containers holding the pharmaceutical imports.”

Elena instinctively clutched Damian’s arm, terror flashing in her eyes. “Damian... the docks?”

Damian’s mind worked with terrifying speed. *Why attack the docks now? Dock 4 was heavily fortified. Moretti knew he couldn't hold it for more than twenty minutes before the port authority and Reyes enforcers overwhelmed him.*

Unless...

*Dock 4 was a distraction.*

A cold shockwave hit Damian’s chest.

“Sofia,” Elena gasped, reading the sudden horror in Damian’s eyes. “Sofia is alone at the estate with only four guards!”

Damian spun toward Christian, his voice barking like a combat commander’s. “Christian! Take half the perimeter team to Dock 4 and neutralize the strike force. Take no prisoners! You and I,” Damian pointed at his two personal drivers, “are going back to the estate. Move!”

He grabbed Elena’s hand and sprinted through the VIP service exit, kicking open the double doors into the pouring rain. The black armored SUV screeched to a halt at the curb. Damian shoved Elena into the back, jumped in beside her, and slammed the door.

“Drive!” Damian roared. “Blow every red light in the city!”