Thunder was still shaking the windows of my estate when I found my maid in labor inside a greenhouse nobody had entered for three years.

By 9:00 PM, the underground world of the city was in total, unadulterated chaos.

The encrypted drive contained even more devastating information than we had anticipated. Julian Vance had been meticulous. He had recorded audio files of Victor Moretti ordering hits on local union leaders, bank statements showing millions of dollars diverted from the Irish mob’s drug shipments, and detailed logs of corrupt police officials receiving monthly payouts.

Mateo had executed the leak with brilliant precision. Using encrypted satellite servers, he sent targeted packages of evidence directly to the heads of the four major syndicates operating in the tri-state area.

The response was immediate and violent.

By 10:30 PM, reports began pouring into our intelligence center. The Irish mob had launched an RPG attack against Victor Moretti’s primary nightclub downtown, turning the building into a blazing inferno. The Colombian cartel had ambushed a major Moretti weapons shipment near the highway, slaughtering twelve of Victor’s enforcers and seizing two million dollars in contraband.

Victor Moretti’s empire, built on decades of deceit, violence, and intimidation, was crumbling to dust in a matter of hours.

Inside my private armory beneath the estate, I stood before a wall of weapons, pulling on a black tactical vest over my dark shirt. I checked the action on my custom assault rifle, slinging it over my shoulder, before tucking two spare magazines into my chest rig.

The door to the armory slid open, and Adeline walked down the concrete steps. She was wearing a dark tactical jacket I had given her, her hair pulled back into a tight braid.

She looked at the array of weaponry surrounding me, her expression unreadable.

"Your baby is asleep with Bernadette," I said, checking the sight on my sidearm. "Bernadette has four armed guards stationed outside the nursery door. Nothing on God’s earth will touch your daughter tonight."

"Thank you, Elias," Adeline said softly, stepping closer to me. She looked up at my face, her dark eyes reflecting the harsh overhead fluorescent light. "Why are you doing all of this for me? I know I brought Rosalind’s memory back... but you’re risking your entire empire for a woman you barely know."

I paused, my hand resting on the grip of my weapon. I looked at her—really looked at her.

"When Rosalind died, a part of me died with her," I admitted quietly, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. "For three years, I've just been existing. Running this organization, counting money, killing enemies... but I was empty. A corpse sitting on a throne."

I took a step toward her, closing the distance between us.

"Then I found you in that greenhouse," I continued, reaching out and gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. "You were lying in dirty water, bleeding, terrified, giving birth alone in a storm. And instead of begging for mercy, you fought. You survived. You gave birth to a child in the middle of a nightmare, and you named her after my wife."

Adeline held her breath, her chest rising and falling softly against her jacket.

"You brought life back into a house that had been dead for three years, Adeline," I told her, my voice dropping into a low, fierce whisper. "I am not doing this just out of obligation to Rosalind. I am doing this because you and your daughter deserve to live without fear. And as long as I have breath in my body, no one will ever hurt you again."

Tears shimmered in Adeline’s eyes, but she didn't let them fall. She reached up, her small, warm hand resting against the side of my face, her thumb gently tracing the scar along my jawline.

"Then let's go end this," she whispered.