As Dominic walked toward the steel elevator, he glanced back at Sophia and Ethan. “Keep them secured in the panic room. No one enters, no one leaves, until I return.”
Sophia watched the towering mafia boss stride away, her mind racing. She had planned on sneaking out of this nightmare as soon as the party ended, but now she was trapped inside a fortress of killers, holding a secret that could get them all slaughtered.
“Mommy,” Lily whispered, tugging at her sleeve. “The bad man with the spider is coming back.”
Sophia’s blood ran cold. She looked around the basement holding room. The heavy steel door was locked from the outside. But across the room, half-hidden behind an old ventilation grate, was a narrow maintenance shaft leading upward into the estate’s historic wing.
“Ethan,” Sophia whispered urgently, grabbing the young heir’s arm. “We need to move. Right now.”
Ethan looked at her, confused, but the sheer terror in Sophia’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. The danger wasn’t outside—it was already inside the walls.
The balcony doors stood wide open, letting in the chilly New York night wind.
“He was just here,” Marcus muttered, stepping cautiously into the room with his hand resting on the grip of his concealed firearm. “Boss, maybe he went down to the security control room to check the feeds—”
“Shut up, Marcus,” Dominic said coldly.
Dominic walked slowly across the plush Persian rug. He stopped beside the mahogany desk. Resting right in the center, gleaming under the desk lamp, was a silver pocket watch engraved with the Moretti family crest. Next to it lay an open ledger, detailing offshore bank transfers routed through Zurich—funded by accounts belonging to rival syndicate families.
And right beside the ledger was a syringe containing the exact same iridescent, silvery neurotoxin Dr. Aris had found in Ethan’s birthday cake.
Marcus stared at the desk, his face turning pale as ash. “My God… Julian was working with the Rostov Syndicate all along.”
“He was always impatient,” Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He picked up the syringe, turning it over in his calloused fingers. “He thought because he shared my blood, he shared my throne. He forgot that a crown isn’t inherited—it’s taken, and those who try to steal it from behind usually lose their heads.”
Before Marcus could respond, the security radio on his shoulder crackled to life with ear-piercing static.
“Code Red! Code Red in Sub-Level B! The hostages—the catering woman and the boy—they’ve breached the ventilation shaft! They’re heading toward the private docks!”
Dominic’s head snapped toward Marcus. The icy mask of calm shattered, replaced by the primal fury of a father whose world was being torn apart.
“You knew,” Dominic whispered, the words dropping like lead weights.
Marcus stumbled backward, drawing his pistol. “Boss, I had no choice—”
Bang.
The silenced gunshot echoed softly through the luxury suite. Marcus Vance crumpled to the Persian rug, blood pooling beneath his chest. Dominic lowered his smoking weapon, stepped over his head of security without a second glance, and sprinted out into the corridor.
The war had officially begun.
Sophia scrambled through the narrow brick conduit, her knees scraping against the rough masonry, clutching Ethan with one arm while guiding Lily with the other.
“Keep going! Don’t look back!” Sophia gasped, her breath coming in ragged puffs in the damp air.
Ethan, despite being the pampered heir of New York’s most feared criminal, didn’t complain once. He kept a firm grip on Lily’s small hand, his face set with a grim determination that mirrored his father’s. “I know this way,” Ethan panted. “My dad showed me the old escape maps last year. The exit leads straight to the boathouse.”
Footsteps echoed sharply behind them down the stone corridor—heavy, rhythmic, closing in fast.
“They’re behind us!” Lily whimpered, starting to sob softly.
“Hurry!” Sophia pushed the two children through a rusted iron access hatch at the end of the tunnel. They tumbled out onto the wooden floor of the private boathouse, the sound of crashing waves outside filling the night air.
Before Sophia could lock the heavy wooden door, a boot slammed against it, bursting the latch wide open.
Julian Moretti stepped into the dim light of the boathouse, a chilling smile plastered across his face, holding a suppressor-fitted pistol in his right hand.
“Well, well, well,” Julian purred, stepping over the threshold. “The little mice tried to scurry out of the maze. Too bad the cat was waiting at the exit.”
Sophia threw herself in front of Ethan and Lily, spreading her arms wide. “Stay away from them!”
