She was the woman who managed his schedule, his secrets, and his silence.
Neither had ever dared to cross the line.
Until blood washed the boundary away.
The radio on Dante’s tactical vest crackled.
Enzo’s voice was tense.
“Boss. We have a problem at the western gate.”
Dante clicked the transmitter.
“What is it?”
“Salvatore Falcone didn’t just hire street mercenaries,” Enzo said.
“He called in the Corvo syndicate from New York.”
“Two dozen heavily armed operators just entered the financial district.”
“They’re heading straight for the tower.”
Dante looked down at Gemma.
Her eyes were wide with sudden panic.
“They’re coming here?” she asked.
“Let them,” Dante said.
He stood up, checking the slide on his weapon.
“This tower has survived three federal raids and two mob wars.”
“It will survive tonight.”
Suddenly, the lights flickered.
The hum of the building’s primary generator died.
Red emergency backup lamps flared to life along the baseboards.
A dull boom shook the concrete beneath their feet.
Das Parkhaus war aufgebrochen worden.
Die Belagerung des Lombardi-Turms hatte begonnen.
