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My phone was still pressed against my ear. On the other end, Marcus—my most trusted lieutenant—was breathing heavily. The sound of muffled police radios and shouting filtered through the speaker. / Chapter 12 / 20

Chapter 12 - Shadows of the PastTwo months had passed since the night Leo crawled to my door.

His leg had healed enough for the heavy plaster cast to be replaced with a sleek, removable fiberglass boot. Physical therapy was grueling, but the boy had the stubborn resilience of a Moretti. He refused to cry, pushing through the pain with a quiet determination that both proud and broke my heart.

Yet, trauma doesn't vanish just because the bad guys are behind bars.

It was 3:00 AM when I heard the soft, shuffling footsteps outside my bedroom door. A moment later, the handle clicked, and a small figure slipped into the dark room.

“Leo?” I whispered, sitting up in bed.

He didn't answer. He just stood by the edge of the mattress, shivering slightly in his oversized dinosaur pajamas.

I didn't ask questions. I simply pulled back the heavy duvet. Without a word, Leo crawled under the covers and curled up against my side, pressing his face into my chest. His small body was vibrating with the aftershocks of a nightmare.

“Bad dream?” I murmured, resting my hand on the back of his head.

“The basement door... it wouldn't open,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “And you were standing outside, but you couldn't hear me calling.”

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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...

The helicopter touched down on the private helipad atop the Moretti Grand Hotel just as the Chicago sun began to melt into Lake Michigan, staining the horizon the color of fresh blood.

The helicopter touched down on the private helipad atop the Moretti Gran...

I tightened my arm around him, anchoring him to reality. “I hear you now, buddy. I'm right here. No basement, no locks, no dark. Just us.”

He let out a long, ragged breath, his muscles slowly relaxing against me. Within a few minutes, his breathing deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. I lay awake in the dark for a long time, staring at the ceiling, realizing that protecting these children wasn't just about fighting external enemies—it was about fighting the ghosts that lived inside their minds.

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