I silently warned the most feared mafia boss in New York that his drink had been poisoned, knowing both crime families would kill me if anyone noticed. He caught my tiny signal in an instant, and the look he gave me made it clear my life would never belong to me again.

The Red Hook meatpacking plant looked like a giant, rotting corpse against the dark waters of New York Harbor.

Fog rolled off the bay, wrapping the rusted iron girders and broken windows in a gray shroud. Rain drizzled steadily, deadening the sound of our footsteps as Dominic's tactical squad moved like ghosts through the abandoned alleyways.

I wore a dark tactical jacket over my clothes, standing between Dominic and Leo as we approached the rear loading bay.

"The camera at the corner of North Wall is dead," I whispered, pointing up at a rusty lens covered in cobwebs. "The wire runs through the drainage pipe. If we go through the side butcher door, we bypass the main security hub entirely."

Dominic motioned to two of his men. They slid up to the heavy steel side door, using a hydraulic breaker to pop the lock with a quiet, muffled CRACK.

We slipped inside.

The interior smelled of ancient salt, rusted iron, and stale grease. The air was bone-chilling cold. Rows of empty meat hooks hung from ceiling tracks, swinging gently in the draft like silver skeletons.

Dominic moved ahead of me, his gun raised, clearing every dark hallway with lethal efficiency. His men followed in a tight formation, securing the corridors silently.

We reached the central meat locker. A massive, insulated stainless-steel door stood in the floor, revealing a flight of concrete stairs leading down into the dark. Warm light and the muffled hum of a diesel generator drifted up from below.

"He's down there," Leo whispered, checking his night-vision goggles.

Dominic turned to me. "Stay here with two guards."

"Dominic—"

"No," he commanded, his tone leaving zero room for debate. He pressed a small silver dagger into my hand, closing my fingers over the leather hilt. "If anyone comes up those stairs who isn't me or Leo, you use this. Do you hear me?"

I nodded, holding the cold steel blade tight. "Be careful."

Dominic leaned down, pressing a hard, brief kiss to my lips. "I always am."

He signaled to his team, and they descended into the bunker like shadows taking form.

Thirty seconds later, gunfire erupted below.

BANG! BANG! RAT-TAT-TAT!

The concrete floor beneath my feet vibrated with the force of the explosions. Shouts, shattering glass, and heavy thuds echoed up the narrow stairwell. I stood near the steel door, my heart hammering against my ribs, holding the dagger so tight my palm burned.

Five minutes felt like five hours.

Then, the gunfire stopped.

A heavy silence settled over the meatpacking plant, broken only by the distant drip of water from the ceiling.

I stepped closer to the stairs, my eyes strained against the dark. "Dominic?"

No answer.