"You've been stealing from me." Elena Moretti set down her cleaning cloth, turned around slowly, and looked the most feared man in Chicago directly in the eyes. She did not flinch. She did not apologize.

The private helipad jutted out over the rocky cliffs above Lake Michigan. Rain poured down in sheets, whipped into a frenzy by the blinding searchlights and deafening roar of the twin-engine helicopter hovering fifty feet above the landing pad.

Victor Vance stood near the edge of the pad, his silver hair soaked, holding his heavy leather briefcase. Juliana was scrambling up the metal stairs of the pad toward him, screaming over the sound of the rotors.

"Marco is dead!" Juliana shrieked, reaching Vance. "Valente knows! We have to leave now!"

Vance cursed, grabbing her arm to pull her toward the idling chopper. "Did you get the primary phrase?"

"No! But we have the watch!" she yelled back, pulling the velvet pouch from her purse.

Suddenly, the heavy metal security doors of the west wing were thrown open.

Matteo stepped out onto the wet asphalt, rain instantly soaking his suit jacket. Beside him stood Elena, her gun raised with two hands, her green dress clinging to her body in the storm.

"Vance!" Matteo’s voice cut through the roar of the helicopter engines like thunder.

Victor Vance spun around, his eyes widening in shock as he saw Matteo standing there, alive and fully armed. His gaze shifted to Elena, and a cruel, terrible smile spread across his soaked face.

"Well, well," Vance shouted over the wind. "The ghost of the Valente family and the last little orphan of the D'Agostino bloodline. How poetic that you two die on the same patch of concrete."

Vance pulled a heavy magnum revolver from inside his coat and aimed it directly at Matteo.

Before he could pull the trigger, Elena fired two rapid shots.

The bullets struck the concrete at Vance’s feet, sending sparks flying through the dark air. Vance stumbled back in surprise, his foot slipping on the wet asphalt near the edge of the cliff.

"Drop the weapon, Victor!" Elena yelled, her voice filled with a lifetime of pain and righteous rage. "You killed my father! You destroyed my family! It ends tonight!"

Vance recovered his footing, laughing maniacally over the storm. "Your father was a weak fool, Elena! Just like your uncle! And you're just a little housemaid playing with big men's toys!"

Vance raised his revolver toward Elena.

Matteo didn't think. He threw himself in front of her, raising his pistol and firing three precise rounds into Vance’s chest.

Vance gasped, the impact of the heavy bullets knocking him backward. The magnum flew from his hands, bouncing across the wet pad. He stumbled against the metal safety railing, his eyes wide with shock as blood blossomed across his silver coat.

Juliana let out a terrified shriek, dropping to her knees, raising her hands into the air as Matteo stepped forward, his gun aimed directly at her head.

"Please! Matteo, please!" Juliana sobbed in the rain. "It was Vance! He forced me! He threatened my family!"

"You betrayed this house, Juliana," Matteo said, his voice cold as the ice in the lake below. "There are no second chances."

He didn't shoot her. He looked over at two of his loyal perimeter guards who had finally broken through the jammed security doors, carbines raised.

"Take her to the basement," Matteo ordered flatly. "Turn her over to the federal authorities at dawn along with Marco’s body."

The guards grabbed Juliana, hauling her away screaming into the dark mansion.

Matteo walked over to Victor Vance, who was slumped against the railing, coughing blood, his life quickly draining away into the storm.

Matteo reached down and snatched the Seiko watch from Vance’s trembling hand. He looked down at the man who had ordered his father's death and torn Elena’s life apart.

"Your ledger is closed, Victor," Matteo said quietly.

Vance looked past Matteo, his dying eyes fixing on Elena standing in the rain, holding her gun, her head held high. With a final, rattling breath, Vance slipped sideways, sliding off the railing into the dark, churning waters of Lake Michigan three hundred feet below.

Silence settled over the helipad, broken only by the sound of the rain and the helicopter banking away into the night sky, its pilot fleeing the scene.

Matteo turned around slowly. He walked over to Elena, stopping right in front of her.

She lowered her gun, her shoulders slumping as the adrenaline finally began to wane. Rain washed over her face, mixing with the hot tears spilling from her eyes.

"Is it over?" she whispered, looking up at him.

Matteo reached out, gently taking the heavy gun from her cold fingers and slipping it into his pocket. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, shielding her from the driving wind.