The mafia boss’s dog had just attacked a professional handler so badly that the man fled through the estate gates bleeding when my maid’s three-year-old daughter walked directly toward him, clutching a small laundry cloth in her hand

Two days later, the trap was set.

Using the captured assassin’s radio, Marco transmitted a false confirmation to Victor Valenti and Uncle Mateo: The explosive has been placed. Don Alessio and his inner circle are contained inside the estate for the evening meal.

We knew how they would strike. Once they believed the estate’s main house was compromised, Victor and Mateo would bring their remaining forces to execute a final, bloody raid to claim the grounds and seize total control of the Chicago docks.

Night fell heavy and dark over the city. A fresh blizzard swept through, burying the estate in deep drifts of powder.

Inside the main house, the lights were kept dim to simulate normal activity. But the building was an empty fortress. Sienna and Elsie had been moved hours earlier to a fortified, underground safe room beneath the estate’s wine cellar, guarded by four of my best men.

I stood on the second-floor balcony overlooking the snowy courtyard, dressed in dark tactical gear, a heavy rifle slung over my shoulder. Beside me stood Nero, fitted with a tactical harness—no iron collar, no wire, only freedom to hunt.

At 8:15 PM, three heavy armored vans smashed through the estate’s outer iron gates, skidding onto the snow-covered courtyard.

Over twenty armed men poured out into the white darkness, led by two figures in heavy furs: Victor Valenti and my uncle, Mateo Moretti.

Mateo looked up at the quiet, dark mansion, a triumphant, cruel smile playing on his aging face. "Alessio! Come out and face your blood! The Valenti family owns Chicago now! Give up the estate, and I might let you live in exile!"

I stepped out into the open moonlight on the balcony, looking down at them.

"You brought twenty men into my courtyard, Mateo," I called down, my voice cutting through the howl of the wind. "You should have brought an army."

Mateo’s smile vanished. "Kill him!" he screamed.

Before his men could raise their weapons, floodlights burst to life around the entire perimeter, blinding the intruders in a wall of pure white light. From the tree line and the roofs of the surrounding structures, fifty Moretti soldiers emerged, cutting off every escape route.

"Nero," I whispered, unhooking his harness lead. "Go."

Nero didn't bark. He bounded down the stone stairwell like a creature of nightmare, launching into the snowy courtyard with terrifying speed.

The battle was short, brutal, and decisive.

My men opened fire with suppressed weapons, dropping the Valenti mercenaries before they could form a defensive line. Nero tore through the front ranks, disarming two guards before they could trigger their rifles, his presence creating total chaos among their lines.

Within five minutes, the gunfire stopped.

The courtyard was still. Blood stained the pristine white snow, marking the final collapse of the Valenti syndicate.