The bulletproof Maybach cut through the freezing Chicago drizzle, the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers the only sound inside the leather-lined cabin

The intruder gasped for air, his dark eyes wide with shock as he stared up at Nora’s cold, unyielding face. Up close, his facial structure was undeniably a Costa—sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and those exact, haunting dark eyes.

"Julian Costa," Nora said, reading the monogram embroidered on the collar of his tactical shirt. "Elena’s son. Your uncle Arthur’s estranged cousin, kept hidden in the dark like a dirty family secret."

"Let me... up..." Julian choked out, clawing futilely at Nora’s boot.

"You picked the wrong house, Julian," Nora said softly, leaning down until her face was inches from his. "You thought you could manipulate a terrified kid and tear this family apart from the inside out. You didn't realize that the woman running this house isn't intimidated by men with guns."

Before Julian could spit out a retort, the overhead lights flooded the mudroom with blinding brilliance.

Arthur stood in the doorway, his massive frame blocking the exit. His face was entirely devoid of color, carved out of absolute stone. He looked down at his nephew on the floor, and for a fraction of a second, Nora saw a flash of deep, ancient grief cross the mafia boss's hardened features.

"You should have stayed buried, Julian," Arthur said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.

"Your precious empire is built on stolen blood, Arthur!" Julian spat, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "You locked my mother away because she knew the truth! You think you're a king, but you're just a jailer!"

Arthur didn't yell. He didn't draw a weapon. He walked forward, looked down at Julian with chilling detachment, and signaled two guards who had materialized silently behind him.

"Lock him in the lower eastern vault," Arthur ordered flatly. "No food, no light, no visitors. Let him think about how his mother tried to murder my father before he starts preaching to me about blood."

As the guards dragged Julian away, thrashing and cursing into the dark, Arthur turned his dark gaze toward Leo. The boy shrunk back slightly, expecting his father’s wrath for hiding the dossier.