The traitor’s name was Luca Ferri.
I had heard Vince mention him.
Trusted driver.
Security clearance.
Seven years with Dante.
Exactly the kind of man no one would suspect.
Luca pointed the gun toward the floor.
“Walk.”
My arms tightened around Noah.
“My mother stays.”
“That depends on you.”
“Claire,” Mom whispered.
I looked at her.
“Do what he says.”
Luca guided us downstairs.
The mansion looked abandoned.
Too abandoned.
Security cameras dark.
Guards missing.
The attack had been planned from inside.
A black SUV waited outside.
Noah whimpered.
I kissed his head.
“It’s okay.”
It wasn’t.
I knew that.
He knew that too.
Luca opened the rear door.
“Get in.”
My mother grabbed his arm.
“Take me instead.”
“Mom!”
Luca shoved her away.
She fell.
I screamed.
Noah cried.
Then a gunshot cracked from somewhere beyond the gate.
Luca ducked.
Headlights exploded across the driveway.
A second SUV slammed through the open entrance.
Vince jumped out.
Everything erupted.
I dropped behind the vehicle with Noah.
Men shouted.
Another shot.
Then Luca grabbed my coat and dragged me upright.
“Move!”
He forced us into the SUV.
The tires screamed.
I looked through the rear window.
Vince ran after us.
My mother stood behind him.
Alive.
Relief lasted one second.
Then Luca drove into the night.
“You’re making a mistake,” I said.
“No.”
“Dante will find you.”
“That’s the point.”
We traveled south.
Noah cried until exhaustion silenced him.
I held him.
Luca glanced through the mirror.
“I’m sorry about the kid.”
“Don’t.”
“I don’t hurt children.”
“You kidnapped one.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it isn’t.”
He said nothing.
After thirty minutes, we reached an abandoned industrial building.
Moretti waited inside.
Salvatore Moretti looked nothing like I expected.
No dramatic suit.
No gold jewelry.
No theatrical villain.
He looked like a businessman.
Gray hair.
Expensive coat.
Calm smile.
That made him worse.
“So,” he said, “this is Dante Russo’s weakness.”
I stepped backward.
“Noah has nothing to do with him.”
Moretti smiled.
“We both know that isn’t true.”
“Let him go.”
“Eventually.”
“Take me.”
“You misunderstand.”
He looked at Noah.
“I don’t want either of you.”
“Then why?”
“I want Dante to choose.”
My stomach tightened.
“Between what?”
“His empire and his son.”
He handed me a phone.
Dante’s face appeared on video.
He was inside the harbor warehouse.
Alive.
My knees weakened.
“Claire.”
His face changed when he saw Noah.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Noah?”
“He’s okay.”
Dante looked beyond the camera.
“Moretti.”
Salvatore stepped into frame.
“Dante.”
“You touch them—”
“I won’t.”
“You already did.”
Salvatore smiled.
“The ports.”
Dante’s expression went flat.
“They’re yours.”
Moretti blinked.
Maybe he had expected hesitation.
Dante gave him none.
“All three terminals. The shipping contracts. The warehouses.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“Your father spent thirty years building those assets.”
Dante’s eyes moved to Noah.
“My father is dead.”
Moretti’s smile faded.
“And everything else?”
“What else?”
“Your political contacts.”
“Yours.”
“Your casinos.”
Dante paused.
Then nodded.
“Yours.”
I stared at the screen.
Everything.
He was surrendering everything.
Moretti leaned closer.
“You understand what happens when people learn Dante Russo surrendered his empire for a waitress and a child?”
Dante’s eyes turned cold.
“I don’t care.”
My heart cracked.
Fourteen months ago, I had believed power mattered more to men like him than anything.
Now he was throwing it away without hesitation.
Moretti looked disappointed.
“You were supposed to fight.”
“You wanted me to choose.”
Dante’s voice lowered.
“I chose.”
He looked directly at me through the screen.
“Them.”
Salvatore’s smile vanished.
And that was when I understood Dante’s plan.
He had never expected Moretti to honor the deal.
The surrender was not strategy.
It was proof.
Dante would give up everything.
But Moretti wanted him desperate.
Angry.
Violent.
Instead Dante had removed the leverage.
“You’ve disappointed me,” Moretti said.
Dante almost smiled.
“That happens.”
Moretti ended the call.
He turned toward Luca.
“Move them.”
“Where?”
“Out.”
My blood froze.
Luca hesitated.
“You said no one gets hurt.”
“I changed my mind.”
Luca stared.
Moretti’s expression hardened.
“Do it.”
Something passed between them.
Then Luca raised the gun.
Not at me.
At Moretti.
“No.”
Salvatore stared.
“What?”
“I signed up for money.”
Luca’s hand shook.
“Not children.”
Moretti laughed.
“You think Russo forgives betrayal?”
“No.”
“Then you’re dead either way.”
“Probably.”
Luca glanced at me.
“But not like this.”
Chaos erupted.
A door crashed open.
Vince entered first.
Then Dante.
I had never seen him move that fast.
Moretti reached inside his coat.
Dante tackled him.
The gun skidded across the concrete.
Men rushed in behind Vince.
Not Dante’s men.
Federal agents.
Moretti’s expression transformed.
“You set me up.”
Dante pinned him against the floor.
“You set yourself up.”
I crouched behind a crate with Noah.
Everything blurred.
Shouting.
Handcuffs.
Footsteps.
Then Dante was beside me.
“Claire.”
I looked up.
His hands trembled.
Not from anger.
Fear.
He touched Noah’s face.
Then mine.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He closed his eyes.
For one second, the most feared man in Boston leaned his forehead against mine.
I felt him shaking.
“I thought—”
“I know.”
“I thought I lost you.”
“You didn’t.”
Noah reached toward him.
“Da.”
Dante opened his eyes.
This time there was no mistaking it.
He took Noah.
Our son wrapped both arms around his neck.
Dante broke.
Not loudly.
No tears falling dramatically.
Just one sharp breath and a face twisting under emotion he could no longer control.
He buried his face in Noah’s hair.
I watched.
And every wall I had built began to crack.
Later, outside, Moretti was placed into an unmarked vehicle.
Luca surrendered voluntarily.
Dante stood beside me.
“You gave him everything.”
“The documents weren’t finalized.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He looked at me.
“You were prepared to.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dante stared as if the answer should be obvious.
“Because he asked me to choose between owning Boston and being Noah’s father.”
His voice softened.
“Claire, that wasn’t a choice.”