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

"How on earth did you get in here?" I cried, throwing my arms around Liam before quickly pulling back to check him for injuries.

"Tracked the GPS on your burner phone before they took your bag," Liam said rapidly, catching his breath. "Bribed a maintenance technician who used to service their HVAC systems. Good thing I spent two years doing industrial duct installation before paramedic school."

"We don't have time for a reunion," Matteo groaned, leaning heavily against the brick wall, pressing a hand against his bleeding shoulder. "Marco’s extraction helicopter is landing on the south helipad in ten minutes. He has the files from the safe. If he reaches international waters with the Moretti cartel backing him, he will wage a war that turns Chicago into a graveyard."

"He killed my parents," I said, a cold, unyielding fire igniting in my chest. All the years of running, all the fake identities, all the terror—it all came down to this moment. "I am not letting him leave."

"Elizabeth, no! You're pregnant!" Liam grabbed my arm, trying to hold me back.

"And that's exactly why I'm finishing this, Liam! So my child doesn't grow up living in fear like I did!"

I picked up the discarded revolver from the floor, checking the cylinder. Four rounds left. My father had taught me how to shoot at rural target ranges when I was a teenager, preparing me for a day he prayed would never come.

"Matteo, show us the shortcut to the south cliff," I ordered with a voice so commanding the hardened enforcer blinked in surprise before nodding.

We ascended the exterior cliffside tunnel that led out onto the rocky bluff overlooking the raging waves of Lake Michigan.

The rain was pouring in violent torrents, lightning illuminating the sky in blinding flashes of blue and white. On the helipad, a twin-engine chopper’s rotors were spinning up, kicking up a deafening gale of saltwater mist.

Near the edge of the helipad, two men were locked in a brutal, life-or-death struggle.

Alessandro, his shirt torn and covered in blood, had disarmed Marco’s final bodyguard and was trading vicious blows with his uncle. Marco, despite his age, fought with the savage desperation of a cornered animal, slashing at Alessandro with a concealed blade drawn from his silver-headed cane.

The blade caught Alessandro across the ribs, tearing through his shirt. Alessandro grunted, stumbling back on the slick, rain-soaked concrete.

Marco raised the heavy steel cane, aiming the lethal tip at Alessandro’s throat.

"You were always soft like your father, Alessandro!" Marco screamed over the roar of the helicopter and the storm. "He hesitated to pull the trigger on Thomas Vance, so I had to cut the brake lines myself! And now, I will take the Vitali crown that was always rightfully mine!"

"MARCO!"

My scream cut through the tempest.

Marco whipped his head around, his eyes widening in shock as he saw me standing at the edge of the helipad, leveling the silver revolver with both hands, the rain plastering my hair to my face.

"You..." Marco sneered, taking a step toward me. "The little Vance girl. You should have died in the car with your traitor father!"

Marco raised his firearm.

BANG!