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Detective Maria Santos tapped her fingernail against the glossy photograph spread across the metal interrogation table. The overhead fluorescent light hummed, casting a sterile, buzzing shadow over the room. / Chapter 17 / 20

Chapter 17 - THE FINAL CLASHClick!

The detonator triggered a secondary charge, but because Dante had tackled the rig sideways, the explosion was redirected outward, blowing open the reinforced side wall of the terminal in a blinding flash of orange fire and shattering concrete, rather than bringing the roof down on our heads.

The concussive shockwave knocked us all to the ground. Dust, smoke, and debris filled the air, choking our lungs.

"Secure him!" Adrian roared, scrambling to his feet through the smoke and drawing his sidearm.

Salvatore stumbled backward, dropping his cane, as two federal agents tackled him hard against the shattered concrete floor, slapping heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists.

"It's over, Salvatore," Adrian panted, standing over the fallen patriarch, his chest heaving with adrenaline. "Your reign of terror is finished forever."

Salvatore laughed hysterically, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he was hauled to his feet. "You think... you think locking me away stops the bloodline? The Vances... we are everywhere, Valente. You'll never be safe."

"Take him away," Adrian ordered, turning his back on him with utter disdain.

As the federal agents dragged Salvatore out into the cold night air toward the waiting transport vehicles, the heavy tension in the terminal finally began to lift.

Dante walked over, wiping soot from his uniform, wincing slightly as his shoulder wound strained against the movement.

"Everyone in one piece?" Dante asked, offering me a hand to help me up from the dusty floor.

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Vivienne stood up so fast her crystal water glass tipped over, spilling a dark puddle across the linen table runner like fresh arterial blood.

Vivienne stood up so fast her crystal water glass tipped over, spilling...

The silence in the dining room felt heavier than the marble beneath my shoes. For twenty-five years, Victor Salvatore had been my shadow. When rival factions tried to poison my water supply in Naples back in '98, Victor caught it. When the tax authorities in Milan tried to freeze my accounts, Victor rerouted them. He was more than a chief of staff; he was the architect of my survival.

The silence in the dining room felt heavier than the marble beneath my s...

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, each beat echoing the phantom sensation of that tiny shift in my right shoe. Ninety-nine specialists had labeled my paralysis permanent—a psychological blockade fused with trauma after Audrey’s fatal car crash. Yet, here I was, staring at an eight-year-old girl who looked entirely unsurprised.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, each beat echoing...

"I think so," I breathed, taking his hand and pulling myself up. I looked over at Adrian, who was walking toward us through the drifting smoke, his eyes full of a deep, unspoken relief.

"The sun will be up in an hour," Adrian said softly, stepping close to me. "And your sister’s surgery starts at eight. Let's go make sure she has a future."

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