Two tequila shots into my twenty-sixth birthday, I poked Boston’s most feared crime boss in the chest twice and watched an entire nightclub go silent. Less than a minute later, a bullet hit the pillar where my head had been, Matteo Conti threw me over his shoulder, and my miserable birthday shift became a fight to stay alive.

By 1:30 AM, the armored SUV pulled through a massive wrought-iron gate surrounded by stone walls topped with security cameras and armed guards.

The Conti estate sat perched on a cliff overlooking the dark expanse of the Atlantic Ocean in Beacon Hill. It wasn't a modern glass mansion; it was an ancient, gothic stone fortress that looked like it had been built to withstand a siege.

The SUV ground to a halt in the brick courtyard.

Luca opened my door, offering a respectful nod that felt completely absurd given the context. "Miss Bennett. Welcome to the compound."

I stepped out into the rain, my broken heel causing me to stumble slightly. Before my foot touched the wet gravel, Matteo caught my waist, lifting me effortlessly against his side.

"I can walk," I snapped, trying to push against his hard chest.

"You have a broken shoe and you're shaking like a leaf," Matteo replied, ignoring my protest entirely as he carried me up the grand stone steps into the warm, marble-floored foyer.

He set me down on a velvet bench near the grand staircase. He motioned to a maid who immediately scurried over carrying a thick wool blanket and a glass of warm brandy.

"Drink," Matteo commanded, standing over me while taking off his wet suit jacket, revealing the shoulder holster strapped across his broad chest.

I took the glass with trembling hands, taking a small sip. The liquid burned my throat, but it helped dull the sharp edge of the panic roaring in my mind.

"What happens now?" I asked, looking up at him. "Do I just stay here until noon tomorrow?"

"You stay here until I clear the city," Matteo said, walking toward his desk near the towering stained-glass windows. "Falcone knows I have you. His men will be searching every safehouse, hotel, and airstrip in Boston before sunrise."

"And if they find this place?"

Matteo looked over his shoulder, a cold, terrifying confidence flashing in his dark eyes.

"They won't," he said flatly. "This house has stood for eighty years. More men have died trying to cross that iron gate than I care to count."

Before I could digest his words, a loud, sharp chiming sound echoed through the foyer.

Luca walked briskly into the room, holding a secure tablet, his face pale.

"Boss," Luca said, his voice tense. "We have a problem at the harbor."

Matteo didn't blink. "Speak."

"Falcone’s men just seized the central control tower at Terminal 4," Luca reported. "They’ve locked down the shipping registries. They’re manufacturing fraudulent documents to claim Arthur Vance’s shares were transferred to Falcone before he died."

Matteo’s jaw tightened. He turned his gaze toward me, his grey eyes calculating every scenario with terrifying speed.

"They're trying to bypass the probate court," Matteo realized out loud. "They don't need to kill Sophie if they can forge the transfer deeds before dawn."

I stood up from the bench, dropping the blanket. "Then let them have the docks! I don't want them! I just want my life back!"

Matteo walked across the marble floor until he stood inches away from me, his presence suffocatingly intense.

"If they take the docks, Sophie, you become a loose end," Matteo whispered, reaching out to gently touch the side of my face, his thumb catching a stray tear on my cheek. "They will kill you anyway to ensure you never challenge the forgery."