“You’ve been stealing from me.” Zo Rossi said it quietly. That made it worse. Men like Zo didn’t need to yell.

The threat didn't come from Chicago. It came from New York.

Sal Moretti hadn't accepted his defeat at Red Hook. Instead, he had secretly allied himself with the Genovese family out of East Harlem—a syndicate far larger, far older, and far more ruthless than any crew in Illinois.

It started with small disruptions.

Two of Zo’s legitimate supply trucks were intercepted on Interstate 80. A warehouse in Gary, Indiana, was hit by an arson attack. And then came the message.

A wooden box was delivered to the front gate of the Rossi estate at six in the morning.

Inside was a single silver syringe, wrapped in a newspaper clipping featuring a picture of Mia and me leaving a local bakery.

Zo sat at his desk in the study, staring down at the box. The air in the room was so thick with tension that Marcus and the other guards refused to speak.

I stood by the window, clutching my arms across my chest, terror gripping my throat.

"They know about Mia," I whispered.

Zo didn't answer immediately. He stood up slowly, walked over to the desk, and pulled a heavy steel key from his pocket. He unlocked a hidden floor safe behind the bookshelf—a safe I had never seen him open before.

Inside lay an old, weathered leather ledger.

"What is that?" I asked.

"My father's ledger," Zo said quietly. "It contains the names, bank accounts, and dark secrets of every senior boss in the Five Families of New York. My father spent twenty years compiling it as an insurance policy before he was killed."

He held the ledger in his hands, his fingers tracing the worn leather.

"Sal Moretti didn't call New York to take my territory," Zo realized aloud. "He told them I have this book. They want it back."

"Give it to them!" I begged, taking a step toward him. "If that's what they want, Zo, give them the book and let them leave us alone!"

"If I give them this book, Tessa, we lose our only leverage," Zo explained calmly. "The moment they have this ledger in their hands, they will eliminate everyone who knows it existed. Including you. Including Mia."

I sank into a chair, burying my face in my hands. The dream life we had built over the last few months felt like it was crumbling into dust.

Zo walked over, dropping to one knee beside my chair. He pulled my hands away from my face, forcing me to look at him.

"Look at me, Tessa," he commanded softly.

I looked into his eyes. They weren't panic-stricken; they were cold, calculated, and sharp as a diamond blade.

"I am not my father," Zo said firmly. "I don't hide behind insurance policies. I built an empire in this city, and I did it by staying three steps ahead of every killer who tried to take my crown."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

Zo stood up, turning to Marcus. "Call a meeting of the Chicago Commission. All five district bosses. Tell them to meet me at the old grain silo near the river at midnight."