The mafia boss tried to stop his mother from cutting her hair—until she revealed the promise she had kept for his father for eleven years.

The estate grounds transformed into an absolute warzone within seconds.

Automatic gunfire echoed across the courtyards, shattering the stained-glass windows of the grand dining room. Heavy caliber rounds tore through limestone pillars, sending stone splinters raining down onto the gardens.

Nico stood behind a heavy oak desk in the main foyer, firing methodical, precise shots through the front entrance, dropping two incoming hitmen in tactical vests.

"Fallback to the east wing!" Nico yelled into his comms unit. "Elena, do you have eyes on the strike team?"

"They aren't Moretti men, Nico!" Elena's voice crackled through his earpiece over the roar of gunfire. "They're wearing unmarked gear! It's a mercenary group hired through a private security firm in Virginia!"

"The Commission's clean-up crew," Uncle Carlo yelled from behind a marble archway, swapping out a fresh magazine into his submachine gun. "They aren't here to negotiate, Nico! They're here to wipe the house clean!"

"Where's my mother?" Nico demanded.

"She's in the secure bunker with your father!" Carlo replied. "The steel doors are locked from the inside!"

A flashbang grenade burst through the front windows, filling the grand entrance hall with blinding light and deafening noise.

Nico ducked behind the desk, shielding his eyes as smoke poured into the room. Three mercenaries dressed in black gear rushed through the shattered front doors, weapons raised.

Nico didn't hesitate. He rolled out from behind the desk, firing three rapid shots, taking down the lead mercenary before rising to his feet and driving his tactical knife into the second attacker's vest seam. He grabbed the fallen man's automatic rifle, spinning around to eliminate the third mercenary with a brief burst of fire.

Smoke filled his lungs, tasting of cordite and dry plaster.

He walked over to the lead mercenary's body, kneeling down to rip the tactical patch off his shoulder.

It wasn't a mercenary logo. It was a silver crest—an eagle gripping a key.

Nico's blood went completely cold.

"Elena," Nico spoke into his comms, his voice dropping into an icy register. "Check the Vanguard account again."

"Nico, I'm trying to hold off their network hackers from the server room—"

"Check the account, Elena!" Nico roared. "Who was the secondary signee on the Swiss ledger besides my father?"

A brief pause answered him over the radio, filled with the click of rapid typing and distant explosions.

"Nico..." Elena's voice faltered, trembling with disbelief. "The secondary signee isn't Sofia Moretti. It's... it's a domestic corporation owned by Carlo Russo."

Nico slowly turned his head toward the marble archway.