The shy maid greeted the father of the Sicilian mafia boss—when everyone called her "just a pathetic maid"—until she uttered six words in an old Sicilian accent in response to the old man… and everyone was astonished when the man everyone feared rose as if he had just discovered something utterly terrifying…

The narrow hallway behind the kitchen smelled of old grease, ozone, and fresh blood.

Nora moved first, her footsteps soundless against the wet concrete tiles. Damian followed two steps behind, his gun raised, covering their rear while keeping one eye on his father, who moved with surprisingly agile speed despite his cane.

Two men in black tactical gear stepped out from the dishwashing bay, their submachine guns raised. They were professional, efficient, and entirely unprepared for a maid who moved like a shadow.

Nora dropped beneath their line of sight, her Beretta barking twice. The double-tap was precise, striking the first shooter in the throat before he could register her presence. As he collapsed, she swept his legs with her left foot, bringing the second shooter off-balance, and put a single round through his chest before he hit the floor.

She didn't stop to admire her work. She grabbed the fallen shooter’s tactical radio, stripped a spare magazine from his vest, and kept moving toward the rear exit.

Damian stared at the two bodies on the floor, then at the girl leading them. "Where did a maid learn CQC clearing?"

"When you are the last survivor of a blood feud," Nora said without looking back, "you don't go to finishing school. You go to Belgrade."

They reached the heavy steel emergency door leading to the alleyway behind Saint Lucien. Outside, the Chicago rain was coming down in sheets, bouncing off the brick walls and rusty fire escapes.

Nora pressed her back against the wall beside the door, holding up a hand to pause them. She adjusted the stolen tactical radio, listening through the static.

"Alpha team, main hall clear. Bellacasa is not in the primary dining room. Check the service corridors. Orders from Donati: no survivors, especially the old man."

Nora looked at Damian. "There are three more in the alley. One on the fire escape above the dumpster, two by the transport van."

"I take the van," Damian said, his voice cold. "You take the roof."

"No," Nora said, her tone absolute. "You guard your father. You shoot anyone who opens this door who isn't me. Give me ninety seconds."

Before Damian could argue, Nora hit the door bar, slipped through the narrow gap into the pouring rain, and vanished into the darkness.

Damian stood in the dim red light of the corridor, his gun trained on the door frame. Beside him, Vittorio leaned against the wall, catching his breath.

"She’s going to sell us out," Damian muttered under his breath. "She’s a Valenti. She has every reason to leave us for Donati."

"Shut your mouth, Damian," Vittorio said softly, his dark eyes staring into the dark rain beyond the crack in the door. "A Valenti does not use modern trash like Donati to settle a debt. If she wanted us dead, she would have watched us burn in the dining room."

"You killed her entire family, Father," Damian whispered. "You expect her to save you out of honor?"

"I expect her to save us out of pride," Vittorio replied, his voice rising over the sound of the rain. "The old blood does not die easily. Look at her, Damian. Look at what we created when we tried to burn Enna."

Outside, three quick, suppressed gunshots cut through the heavy thrum of the rain. A heavy body hit the metal dumpster with a loud clang, followed by the sound of splashing water.

Ten seconds later, the steel door swung open.

Nora stood in the deluge, rain running down her pale face, her hair plastered to her skull. She held a tactical submachine gun in her left hand and her Beretta in her right.

"Alley clear," she said, her amber eyes glowing in the dark. "The van is ours. Move."

They stepped out into the freezing storm. The alley was littered with three black-clad bodies, perfectly still in the pooling rainwater. A heavy black SUV sat idling near the street entrance, its driver’s side door swinging open in the wind.

Vittorio stopped beside Nora as Damian helped him into the back seat. The old man looked down at the dead men, then at Nora.

"Where are you taking us, girl?" Vittorio asked.