THE MAFIA HEIR'S SECRET BABY: BOUND BY BLOOD, DECEPTION, AND DANGEROUS DESIRE

The bullet tore through Marco’s right shoulder, spinning him violently around. The heavy steel cane and his weapon clattered across the wet concrete, sliding off the edge of the cliff into the churning black waters of Lake Michigan.

Marco fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding shoulder, howling in agony and rage.

I lowered the smoking revolver, my hands trembling violently, the adrenaline crashing through my body like an electric current. Liam rushed to my side, steadying me as the rain washed the gunpowder residue from my fingers.

Alessandro rose from the ground, breathing heavily. He wiped blood from his split lip, his amber eyes locking onto me with an intensity that burned hotter than the storm around us.

He walked slowly toward his wounded uncle. The helicopter pilot, seeing the tide turn, immediately lifted the chopper into the air and fled into the stormy night, abandoning Marco to his fate.

Alessandro stood over Marco, his shadow stretching across the concrete like the Grim Reaper.

"You murdered my father," Alessandro’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of an executioner's blade. "You framed Thomas Vance. You brought traitors into our home and threatened the woman carrying my heir."

"Alessandro... please..." Marco choked out, crawling backward toward the safety railing, blood bubbling at his lips. "We are blood... we are Vitalis..."

"The Vitali name belongs to honor," Alessandro said coldly. "And you are nothing but a disease."

Alessandro pulled his weapon, raised it, and fired a single, clean shot between Marco’s eyes.

The body went limp against the railing before slumping onto the concrete.

The storm seemed to quiet in that instant. Matteo emerged from the tunnel with six loyal Syndicate soldiers, securing the perimeter and disarming the remaining infiltrators.

Alessandro holstered his weapon. He turned away from the dead man and walked straight toward me through the driving rain.

His clothes were soaked, his knuckles bruised, his body battered, but when he reached me, his touch was impossibly gentle. His large, trembling hands framed my wet face, his thumbs wiping away the mixture of rainwater and tears.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice cracking with raw emotion. "Did he touch you?"

"I'm okay," I sobbed, collapsing against his chest. "We're okay."

Alessandro wrapped his powerful arms around me, pulling me so tight against his heartbeat that I could feel the violent rhythm of his soul finally settling into peace. He buried his face in my wet hair, heedless of the guards, heedless of the blood, heedless of the empire crumbling around us.

"It’s over, Elizabeth," he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Nobody will ever hunt you again. I swear to you on my life."

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his hand sliding down to rest flat and warm against my lower abdomen.