"“She’s Already Gone,” His Mistress Laughed — Then the Doctor’s Words Made the Mafia Boss Go Cold

The quiet residential street of Pilsen detonated into an arena of synchronized violence.

Before the sniper on the bakery roof could cycle a second round, the high-pitched whine of two commercial drones tore through the freezing drizzle overhead.

BOOM!

High-intensity flash-bang charges detonated across the bakery roofline, illuminating the brick facades in blinding sheets of magnesium white light.

A sharp, agonized shriek echoed from the darkness as the New York marksman fell from the parapet, crashing through an awning into the alley below.

"Move! To the Maybach! Now!" Adrian commanded, hauling Nora upright by her waist, keeping his heavy coat draped securely over Theo while Nora clutched Wren against her ribs.

They sprinted down the porch steps, Clare flanking their left with the diaper bags, the rain stinging their faces like needles.

Two black Suburbans with New York plates tore around the corner of 18th Street, their engines screaming as their drivers attempted to ram the armored Maybach.

CRASH!

Gianni’s lead tactical Escalade lunged forward from the cross street like an iron battering ram, plowing directly into the driver’s side of the first New York vehicle at forty miles an hour.

Metal crumpled with a deafening screech of tortured steel; safety glass shattered into thousands of sparkling diamonds across the wet asphalt; and the New York transport spun three hundred and sixty degrees before slamming into a fire hydrant, sending a thirty-foot geyser of white water screaming into the night sky.

"Get in! Get in!" Gianni roared, kicking open the rear armored door of the Maybach, firing three controlled bursts from his submachine gun toward the second enemy vehicle to keep their shooters pinned.

Adrian shoved Nora and the babies into the reinforced passenger cabin, followed by Clare, before diving inside himself.

The heavy, four-inch-thick steel door slammed shut with a concussive, pneumatic THUD.

PANG! PANG! PANG!

Automatic rifle rounds hammered against the exterior armor of the Maybach, spiderwebbing the outer ballistic glass by a fraction of an inch, but the reinforced cabin remained completely impenetrable.

Inside, the climate control breathed a steady seventy-two degrees. The soft leather smelled of cedarwood and clean filtered air.

Wren let out a startled, piercing wail, terrified by the concussive noise, while Theo woke up, squirming against Adrian’s chest, his little face turning red as he began to cry.

Adrian did not look at the windows. He did not look at the gunfire flashing in the street outside.

He sat on the rear bench, his large, scarred hands gently rocking Theo against his heart, his deep baritone humming a low, soothing cadence that Nora had never heard him use in all the years of their marriage.

"Shh, little man," Adrian whispered, his lips brushing the baby's dark curls. "You're safe. Daddy’s got you. Daddy’s right here."

Beside him, Nora rocked Wren, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at her husband.

In the dim amber ambient light of the armored car, the ruthless mob boss was gone. There was only a father—bleeding from a glass cut on his temple, his knuckles bruised, holding his infant son with a tenderness that defied every horror of the city outside.

Gianni threw the Maybach into reverse, the run-flat tires biting into the asphalt, spinning the heavy vehicle toward the highway.

"Clear on the interstate, Boss!" Gianni reported over the partition mic. "The perimeter is locked down. Heading straight to Lake Forest."

Adrian slowly lifted his head, his storm-gray eyes meeting Nora’s gaze through the gloom.

"They tried to take them, Nora," Adrian murmured, his voice dropping into that terrifying, subterranean frequency that made the hairs on her neck stand up.

"They tried to touch my family.

And tomorrow morning...