The sudden click of the disconnected line echoed in Olivia’s ear like a gunshot. She stared at her phone screen, her heart slamming violently against her ribs.

By 9:00 PM, the storm had turned into a full-blown gale. Whitecap waves slammed against the rusted iron bulkheads of the Moretti family’s private shipping shipyard in Red Hook, Brooklyn.

Inside a massive, dimly lit warehouse filled with towering stacks of steel shipping containers, thirty men stood in quiet, disciplined formation. They were dressed in dark tactical gear, carrying suppressed rifles, their expressions grim and focused.

This was Luca’s personal vanguard—men who had served his father and remained loyal to the Moretti name through decades of gang warfare.

In the center of the warehouse, a large wooden table was covered with blueprints of Pier 88—a massive, two-story commercial cruise terminal on the West Side of Manhattan.

Luca stood at the head of the table, his coat off, wearing a fresh Kevlar vest over a black shirt. Dr. Greene had spent twenty minutes re-stitching his wound and pumping him full of high-grade painkillers, but Luca showed no sign of weakness.

Victoria Moretti stood across from him, her arms crossed over her chest, her icy eyes scanning the tactical maps.

"Pier 88 is a death trap, Luca," Victoria argued coldly. "Cross has at least twenty professional mercenaries stationed along the upper catwalks. The moment you step onto that pier with the girl, they will crossfire the floor."

"They won't fire until they have the biometric scan from Olivia," Marco pointed out, pointing to a red circle on the blueprint representing the central terminal hall. "Cross needs her alive for at least five minutes to clear the Account 99 transfer."

"Which gives us a five-minute window," Luca said, looking around the table at his commanders. "Marco will lead team alpha through the lower service maintenance tunnels beneath the pier. Once Olivia and I reach the main hall, Marco detonates the secondary power junction, cutting the terminal lights."

"And what about the boy and the aunt?" Victoria asked, leaning forward. "Cross won't keep them in the main hall. He’ll hold them in the executive offices on the second floor."

"Which is why you are leading team beta from the water, Victoria," Luca said, his gaze locking onto his aunt.

Victoria blinked, surprised. "Me?"

"You said I was letting my heart rule my head," Luca said softly. "Prove to me that your head is still with this family. Take four men on the fast-attack boat, climb the rear pilings of Pier 88, and secure Olivia’s family before the lights go out."

Victoria studied her nephew for several long seconds. A faint, rare flicker of pride touched her sharp features. "You sound like your father, Luca."

"My father would have let them die," Luca replied smoothly. "I don't."

He turned toward the small office at the back of the warehouse, where Olivia was sitting quietly on a couch, wearing a heavy black jacket Luca had given her.

Luca walked over, pushing the door open softly.

Olivia looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but the panic had faded, replaced by a quiet, somber acceptance of the storm she was about to walk into.

"It's time?" she asked.

"It's time," Luca said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, sleek silver pendant attached to a thin steel chain. He walked over to her, stepping behind the couch, and gently draped the chain around her neck, fastening the clasp.

Olivia looked down at the pendant. It was a solid silver disk, smooth and unadorned, heavy against her collarbone.

"What is this?" she asked, touching the cold metal.

"It was my mother's," Luca murmured, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. "She wore it when my father went to war. She believed it kept the people she cared about safe."

Olivia reached up, covering his hand with hers. "Do you believe that?"

Luca leaned down, his lips brushing softly against her temple, sending a warm, electric shiver through her entire body. "I believe in keeping my promises, Olivia. And I promised you that no one is going to hurt you tonight."

She turned her head, her gaze meeting his dark, intense eyes. For a moment, the roaring storm outside, the armed men in the warehouse, and the impending battle at Pier 88 completely vanished. There was only Luca—the dangerous, terrifying man who had become her sole anchor in a world gone mad.

"Luca," she whispered softly.

"Yes?"