Vanessa Moretti slipped her champagne glass onto a passing tray without taking her eyes off the man near the ballroom doors.

Santos, Carmine’s massive chief enforcer, stepped up beside Luca, drawing a heavy shotgun. "I don't care if he's a ghost! Kill him!"

Sixteen men raised their weapons simultaneously, aiming straight at Damien.

"Vanessa," Damien whispered into his collar mic. "Now."

CRACK.

The sound of the heavy sniper rifle echoed like a thunderclap across the bay.

Santos’s head snapped back, his body hitting the wet asphalt before the sound of the gunshot even reached their ears.

Panic erupted instantly among the syndicate soldiers.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

Three more men dropped in rapid succession, each shot precise, lethal, and delivered with terrifying speed from high above.

"Sniper! Top of the crane!" a soldier screamed, turning to fire upward into the blinding rain and fog.

Damien didn't waste a second. He pulled twin pistols from beneath his coat and opened fire, moving with the cold, practiced lethality that had made him the most feared Don in the state. He advanced through the rain, shooting two men in the chest, stepping past a falling body, and firing another round into a driver trying to put an SUV into reverse.

The container yard descended into absolute chaos. Bullet sparks danced across the steel surfaces, engine revs screamed against the roar of the ocean, and the heavy beat of Vanessa’s sniper rifle acted as the relentless metronome of death.

Luca turned and ran.

He didn't fight. He threw his weapon down and sprinted into the dark alley between two massive red containers, fleeing toward the water.

Damien pursued him, stepping over the fallen men, his vision focused entirely on the traitor. His shoulder burned with white-hot agony, but the adrenaline pulsing through his veins drowned out the pain.

Luca reached a dead end at the edge of the pier. Behind him was a fifty-foot drop into the churning, icy black waves of the Atlantic.

He spun around, breathing heavily, pulling a small pocket knife with a trembling hand.

Damien stepped out of the shadow of the container, his pistol raised, pointing directly at Luca’s forehead.

"Damien... please!" Luca begged, tears mixing with the rain on his face. "Carmine forced me! He threatened my family! I didn't have a choice!"

"You always had a choice, Luca," Damien said, his voice devoid of anger—only cold, absolute finality. "You chose the money. You chose the power. And worst of all... you made my wife mess up her favorite dress."

Luca blinked, utterly confused by the last statement. "What?"

CRACK.

A high-caliber bullet tore through the air from two hundred yards away, striking the concrete right between Luca’s feet.

Luca shrieked, jumping back, losing his balance on the wet edge of the pier. He flailed wildly, trying to grab the edge of the steel railing, but his fingers slipped.

With a desperate cry, Luca fell backward off the edge, disappearing into the dark, roaring ocean below.

Silence returned to Pier 42.

The rain continued to fall, washing away the blood on the asphalt. The idling engines of the destroyed SUVs hummed softly in the mist.

Damien lowered his weapon, taking a long, deep breath.

A moment later, he heard the soft, rhythmic sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

He turned. Vanessa was walking down the aisle between the containers, carrying her long-range rifle over her shoulder. She had removed her tactical vest, her charcoal sweater wet from the rain, her eyes warm and steady as she looked at him.

Damien stood there in the downpour, looking at his wife—the sniper, the ghost, the guardian angel who had just saved his life and his empire.

"Is it over?" Damien asked softly.

Vanessa walked up to him, stopping inches away. She reached up, gently wiping a streak of rain from his cheek.

"Carmine’s men are gone," she said softly. "The encrypted drives are safe. And tomorrow, every Capo in the city will know that Damien Moretti is untouchable."

Damien let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sigh. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Damien whispered. "For keeping you in a gold cage."