HE TRUSTED HIM WITH HIS LIFE—UNTIL A 3ARIA-YEAR-OLD’S CRAYON DRAWING EXPOSED THE DEADLIEST TRAITOR IN THE UNDERWORLD! (THE ENDING WILL SHOCK YOU!)

The secret tunnel led out to a secluded rocky cove along the crashing ocean shore, far from the burning mansion. A sleek, armored speedboat waited silently against the wooden pier, its engine idling with a low, throbbing purr. Two of Dante’s most trusted surviving bodyguards stood guard near the bow.

Dante pushed Claire and Lily inside the cabin, climbing in behind them and slamming the hatch shut. The boat surged forward instantly, cutting through the dark, churning waves under the pale moonlight.

"Where are we going?" Claire asked, wiping soot from her face.

"To my safehouse in the city," Dante said, reloading his pistol with practiced efficiency. "Salvatore thinks he has successfully orchestrated a coup. He thinks he’s taken control of the syndicate's assets and my shipping ports. But he made one critical mistake."

"What's that?"

"He underestimated how much I trust a three-year-old’s memory," Dante replied, turning his gaze toward Lily, who had quieted down and was quietly coloring a napkin with the red crayon she had managed to keep.

Claire frowned. "What does Lily have to do with Salvatore?"

"Before Marco was captured, he mentioned Salvatore," Dante explained, his jaw tight with suppressed rage. "But last night, when Lily drew that picture on my car, she didn't just draw Marco hiding. Look closely at her drawing, Claire. You were too panicked to see it earlier."

Dante pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket—a sketch Lily had made on a notepad earlier that morning before the chaos began. He unfolded it. It showed three stick figures near a car, and a fourth tall figure holding a box. But in the corner, half-hidden behind a tree, was a distinct figure wearing a wide-brimmed fedora and holding a distinctive silver-headed cane.

Salvatore Moretti always used a silver-headed cane.