"They beat my housekeeper nearly unconscious because she wore my family crest, then left her bleeding in the rain as a warning to me. But the men who attacked Emma Carter made one fatal mistake: they thought hurting someone under my protection would frighten me.

By noon, the news of the raid on The Red Star had sent shockwaves through the dark underbelly of New York City.

The Five Families were in an uproar. An emergency summit of the Commission had been called for 4:00 p.m. at a neutral private club in Midtown Manhattan to address the sudden, violent destruction of the Russian Bratva’s primary Brooklyn asset.

Viktor Kolov had flown back from Miami on a private jet, landing at JFK at 1:00 p.m.

When he arrived at his Brighton Beach estate, he found Lev Sokolo tied to the front wrought-iron gates, bruised, bloody, and holding an empty ledger in his broken hands. Kolov had realized within five minutes that his bank accounts were frozen, his political payoffs exposed, and his reputation in the city decimated.

At 3:30 p.m., I stood in the dressing room of my master suite, putting on a charcoal three-piece suit crafted from midnight wool.

Lucia stepped into the room, holding a silk tie.

“The Commission will be hostile today, Dominic,” she warned, her face tense with worry as she helped me adjust the tie around my collar. “Old man Moretti hates instability. He’ll say you broke the 1998 Truce Agreement by attacking Kolov’s territory.”

“Moretti is eighty years old and lives in a fantasy world where street gangs respect treaties,” I replied calmly, adjusting the silver cuffs of my shirt. “Kolov broke the truce the second his men laid hands on Emma.”

“And what if Kolov comes to the meeting with weapons?” Lucia asked, her dark eyes searching mine.

“He won't be allowed weapons inside the Commission hall,” I said. “And even if he brings them... he won't leave that building alive.”

Marco knocked on the open door frame, stepping into the room wearing a sharp dark suit with a dark red tie.

“The armored convoy is ready, Boss,” Marco reported. “We have twelve security vehicles staging around the Midtown club. The street will be locked down tight.”

I picked up my silver-plated 1911 pistol, sliding it into the leather shoulder holster beneath my jacket. I smoothed down the lapels of my tailored coat, checking my reflection in the full-length mirror.

The bruised, terrified image of Emma bleeding on my marble floor flashed through my mind one last time.

I turned to my sister, kissing her cheek gently.

“Keep Emma safe until I return,” I told her.

“I will,” Lucia promised. “Go finish this, Dominic.”

I stepped out of the suite, moving toward the elevator with Marco beside me.

“Did Kolov accept the emergency summons?” I asked as we descended to the garage.

“He did,” Marco confirmed, a dark smile touching his lips. “He’s furious, Dominic. He lost his money, his reputation, and his best enforcer in twelve hours. He’s coming to that meeting to demand your head from the Commission.”