The doctors gave my three-year-old son just fourteen days to live, and I believed nothing could hurt me more than that

The catwalk violently groaned, tilting precariously as the primary support beam snapped under the force of the blast. Sparks rained down like dead stars as heavy smoke filled the cavernous warehouse.

"Jump!" I yelled, grabbing Elena by the jacket and pulling her toward the lower platform just as the steel catwalk folded in half and crashed into the concrete floor below.

We hit the ground hard, rolling through dust and twisted metal. I scrambled up, coughing through the dense, acrid smoke, my gun instantly raised.

Through the haze of fire and smoke, a heavy tactical vehicle crashed through the wooden loading doors of the warehouse. The front grill was reinforced with iron bars, and the headlights burned through the darkness like the eyes of a demon.

The driver’s door slammed open. Out stepped Julian Vance.

His left arm was wrapped tightly in a blood-soaked bandage, his kneecaps visibly ruined, forcing him to lean heavily on a steel crutch. His face was contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated madness. In his right hand, he held a military-grade grenade launcher.

"Did you really think two bullets to the legs would stop me from taking what is mine, Luca?!" Julian screamed above the roar of the flames. "I drove here on willpower alone! I spent ten years building an empire out of your shadow! I will not let a dying child and a ghost take it from me!"

Victor, who had been thrown to the ground by the initial blast, scrambled to his feet, pulling his sidearm. "Julian! You betrayed us! You drained the Swiss accounts!"

Julian didn't even look at his brother. He turned the grenade launcher toward Victor and pulled the trigger.

The grenade detonated at Victor's feet, vaporizing him and his two remaining men in a blinding flash of fire and shrapnel.

The shockwave knocked me backward against a stack of wooden crates. Elena was thrown to the side, landing near a pile of heavy iron chains.

"You see, Luca?!" Julian howled, his voice breaking into a manic laugh as he reloaded another round into the launcher. "Power isn't about loyalty! It isn't about family! It's about who is willing to burn down the entire world to stand at the top!"

I pulled myself up, my ribs burning with white-hot pain. The blue vial of catalyst was still safe in my padded chest pocket, but the fire was spreading fast, threatening to engulf the entire structure.

"Elena!" I called out into the smoke.

"I'm here!" her voice came from the right. She was crawling behind a steel forklift, her face smudged with soot, but her eyes burning with pure determination.

"He has two rounds left in that launcher," I whispered, keeping my body low behind the crates. "I need to draw his fire so you can get out with the medicine."

"No!" Elena snapped back quietly. "We leave together, Luca! Sofia didn't send me here to deliver a cure to an orphan! Matteo needs his father!"

"If I don't stop him, neither of us makes it out!" I argued, my fingers tightening around the grip of my pistol. "Take the stabilizer box and the catalyst vial. Get to the car!"

"I'm not leaving you!" she shouted above the roar of the blaze.

Before I could reply, Julian fired another round. The shell struck the crates three feet above my head, blowing the thick oak wood into millions of jagged splinters. The concussive blast threw me onto my back, my pistol flying from my hand and skidding across the oil-slicked floor out of reach.

My ears were ringing violently. The roof of the warehouse was beginning to collapse, heavy iron trusses raining down into the inferno.

Julian limped slowly through the thick smoke, the grenade launcher leveled at my chest, a triumphant, psychotic grin stretching across his blood-stained face.

"It ends here, Luca," Julian rasped, his finger tightening on the trigger. "The great Luca Moretti, dying in the dirt like a dog."

I stared up into the barrel of the weapon, my muscles tensing to make one final, desperate leap, even knowing it was impossible to dodge at this range.

BANG.

A single gunshot echoed through the burning warehouse—not from Julian's weapon, but from the darkness behind him.

Julian stiffened. A small, neat hole appeared in the center of his throat. He dropped the grenade launcher, his hands clutching desperately at his neck as he fell forward onto his knees, choking on his own blood.

Behind him stood Marco.

My chief of security was dripping with rain, holding a smoking heavy-caliber revolver, his face carved out of stone.

"No one touches the Boss," Marco said coldly.

Julian collapsed face-down into the burning debris, his body going completely still as the flames consumed him.

Marco rushed over, grabbing me under the arms and hoisting me to my feet. "Are you alright, Luca?"

"Marco..." I gasped, rubbing my burning chest. "How did you get here?"

"The maid left a note on your desk before she left," Marco said, motioning toward Elena, who was stepping out from behind the forklift holding the steel box intact. "She told me everything. I gathered five of our best men and tracked your cars. We have three ambulances waiting outside."