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The heavy air in the kitchen hung thick with the ghosts of a life Dominic Russo had buried a year and two months ago. Standing in the doorway, his hand slowly slipped away from the Sig Sauer, his knuckles whitening against the checkered grip before he forced his fingers to uncurl. Fourteen months of silence. Fourteen months of walking through a multi-million-dollar tomb on the Long Island Sound where his daughters—his triplets, Lucia, Valentina, and Mia—existed like hollowed-out porcelain dolls. No tears, no tantrums, no laughter. Just breathing shells of children traumatized the night a sniper's bullet took Isabella. / Chapter 5 / 8

Chapter 5 - The Trap Springs Shut

"Wait," Dominic commanded, his hand shooting out to grip Elena's wrist as she turned to grab her canvas bag.

Elena yanked her arm back, her eyes blazing with fury. "Don't touch me! You made your choice, Russo. Your paranoia just won. Enjoy your empty house."

"You're not leaving," Dominic said, his tone shifting from cold dismissal to absolute command.

"Make up your mind! Am I a threat or a guest?"

"You're a target," Dominic said grimly, his phone vibrating again in his hand. This time, it was a voice call from Sal. Dominic swiped answer and put it on speaker.

"Boss!" Sal’s voice was frantic, drowned out by the sound of screeching tires and muffled pops in the background. "We've got movement on the coastal road! Two black SUVs just blew past the lower gate! They’re bypassing the perimeter—heavy ordinance, Lupertazzi hit squad! They knew we were vulnerable—"

The line went dead with a sharp, static hiss.

In the kitchen, the sunlight streaming through the massive windows suddenly dimmed as the shadow of a heavy vehicle swept across the lawn.

Elena’s face drained of color. She looked at Dominic, her voice dropping to a horrified whisper. "They tracked me here."

"Who?" Dominic demanded, already drawing his Sig Sauer and slamming a fresh magazine home.

"The men who killed Arthur Sterling," Elena breathed, her hands flying to her mouth. "I saw a ledger on his desk the night he died—names, bank accounts, money laundering pipelines connecting federal prosecutors to the Lupertazzi syndicate. I copied the files before I ran. They've been hunting me for three months."

Dominic didn't waste a single second on recriminations. He grabbed Elena by the shoulder, shoving her and the triplets toward the reinforced panic room hidden behind the pantry wall.

"Get them inside. Now!" Dominic barked.

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