There are rules when the devil kicks in your door.

The sleet had turned into a blinding snowstorm by midday, coating the streets of Chicago in a thick, suffocating blanket of white. Inside the safe house, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Dante and four other armed enforcers moved through the hallways like ghosts, checking locks, securing windows, and whispering into encrypted radios.

Nora sat in the massive, sunlit kitchen, trying to feed Leo a jar of strained carrots while Mrs. Higgins bustled around the stove, brewing strong black coffee. But Nora’s hands were trembling so badly she nearly dropped the spoon.

“He’s going into the lion’s den,” Nora whispered, staring blindly out the frosted kitchen window toward the heavy iron gates.

“Mr. Moretti knows what he’s doing, dear,” Mrs. Higgins said gently, placing a warm hand on Nora’s shoulder. “He’s built like iron. Nothing in this city moves without his permission. Thomas made a grave mistake crossing him, but Gabriel will clean up the mess.”

“And what happens to us when he finds Tommy?” Nora asked, her voice cracking.

Mrs. Higgins paused, her kind eyes softening with empathy. She didn't lie. She knew the brutal reality of the world they lived in. “Mr. Moretti always honors his word. If he said you’re safe, you’re safe. Eat your lunch, Nora. You need your strength.”

Suddenly, the heavy oak door of the kitchen swung open.

Dante stepped inside, breathing heavily, snow clinging to the shoulders of his heavy black coat. His face was grim.

“Boss is on the move,” Dante announced, looking directly at Nora. “We got a confirmed visual on Thomas at a shipping warehouse down by the Chicago River. The Albanians are already heading that way.”

Nora’s heart stopped. “Is Gabriel... is he going alone?”

“With a strike team,” Dante said, pulling a Glock from his shoulder holster to check the magazine with a sharp click. “He’s walking right into a crossfire. Thomas is cornered, and a cornered rat bites.”

Nora stood up so fast her chair screeched against the floor. Leo let out a startled cry, and Mrs. Higgins quickly scooped him up.

“Get your coat, Nora,” Dante said coldly.

Nora blinked. “What? Why? You just said it’s a war zone!”

“Gabriel’s orders,” Dante replied, his tone flat. “He said if things go south and we have to relocate, you go with the primary transport unit. You’re coming to the staging ground.”

Ten minutes later, Nora found herself bundled in a heavy wool coat, strapped into the back of an armored SUV alongside Dante and three heavily armed enforcers, racing through the blizzard toward the frozen Chicago docks.

The wind howled outside, beating against the armored glass like fists of ice. Nora clutched a diaper bag to her chest like a shield, praying silently to a God she hadn't spoken to in years. Please. Keep him safe. Keep us all safe.

When the convoy screeched to a halt, they were parked behind a row of rusted shipping containers overlooking the dark, icy waters of the river. Fifty yards away stood Warehouse 14—a massive, corrugated metal building with broken windows and a door hanging half off its hinges.

Flashing red and blue lights were nowhere in sight. In the underworld, police were secondary players. This was a private war.

Two black sedans sat abandoned near the entrance, riddled with bullet holes. The snow around the doorway was stained dark red.

“Stay in the vehicle,” Dante ordered sharply, sliding open the door and stepping out into the howling storm, his rifle raised. The other enforcers swarmed out behind him, moving with deadly, practiced precision toward the warehouse.

Nora pressed her face against the cold glass, her breath fogging up the window.

Inside that warehouse was Tommy—the coward who had ruined her life, who had used her and their baby as bait. And inside that warehouse was Gabriel—the ruthless mafia don who had chosen to stand between her and a hail of bullets.

Suddenly, a loud crack echoed over the wind.