The sound of sirens was a distant, wailing symphony that cut through the crisp night air, but for Nora Blair, the world had narrowed to the sensation of asphalt biting through the worn soles of her sneakers and the raw, scraping burn in her lungs.

Despite the fall of Victoria and her father, the underworld of Chicago was never entirely quiet.

Three months after the fire, an splinter faction of Victoria’s former loyalists—led by a disgraced syndicate lieutenant named Kaz—attempted a desperate bid to strike back. They knew they couldn't attack the fortified Vance estate directly, so they targeted the weakest link in Julian’s new life: the public grand opening of the rebuilt Velvet Room.

The new venue was a marvel of modern architecture—built with reinforced steel, fireproof glass, and state-of-the-art security systems. It stood as a symbol of Julian’s complete triumph over the past.

On the evening of the gala reopening, the ballroom was packed with high-society guests, city politicians, and powerful business moguls.

Nora stood near the grand mezzanine balcony, looking stunning in a floor-length emerald silk dress, her hair cascading in soft curls down her back. Beside her stood Julian, immaculate in a black tuxedo, his hand resting comfortably at the small of her back.

Down on the main floor, Gabriel was moving through the crowd, keeping a watchful eye on security protocols.

Suddenly, Nora noticed a waiter moving strangely near the eastern VIP lounge entrance. The waiter was tall, carrying a champagne tray, but his gait was awkward—his right hand stayed tucked rigidly inside his jacket pocket.

Nora’s instincts, forged through years of hyper-vigilance, flared instantly.

She leaned close to Julian. “Julian. Look at the server near the eastern lounge. The one with the mustache.”

Julian’s eyes flicked subtly toward the man. His jaw hardened instantly.

“Kaz,” Julian whispered coldness in his voice.

Before Kaz could pull the silenced pistol hidden beneath his jacket, Julian tapped his earpiece twice.

“Code Black. Eastern lounge.”

In a lightning-fast, silent maneuver, four of Julian’s undercover guards closed in from the shadows. Before the guests even realized what was happening, Kaz was pinned against the service wall, his weapon disarmed, and he was quietly dragged through a disguised service door into the rear alley.

The music never stopped. Not a single champagne glass was spilled.

Gabriel walked up to the balcony moments later, adjusting his cuffs. “Kaz has been secured. He was acting alone—a desperate dog looking for a payout.”

Julian turned to Nora, his eyes full of fierce admiration.