The heavy oak door slammed shut behind Dr. Harrison Cole, his muffled curses echoing down the marble-tiled corridor of the Falcone estate. Carmine didn't even blink. He kept his Smith & Wesson steady until the estate's heavy security gates groaned, signaling the disgraced surgeon’s departure.

"Vincenzo!" Gabriel roared over the chaos, gripping his weapon as we sprinted down the corridor. "Report!"

Vincenzo Rossi appeared out of the smoke, his suit jacket torn and his face smeared with soot. He was dragging an assault rifle, blood dripping from a graze on his forehead.

"Boss! The security gate's electronic control box was sabotaged from the inside! An external hit squad is breaching the perimeter, and someone disabled the internal panic doors!" Vincenzo yelled, gasping for breath.

"Who disabled the doors?" Gabriel demanded, stepping protectively in front of me as glass shattered somewhere down the hall.

"It had to be someone with master override codes!" Vincenzo shouted back, aiming his rifle down the dark corridor. "Either Julian, Elena, or Cole!"

"Where are they now?"

"Scattered! Cole locked himself in the medical wing, Elena is barricaded in her suite, and Julian... Julian was in his office when the blast hit!"

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. "Cover our six, Vincenzo. Maya, stay behind me."

We moved swiftly through the choking smoke, hugging the ornate walls. Every shadow felt like an assassin waiting to strike. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Just hours ago, I was sweeping floors; now I was dodging bullets in a high-stakes mafia warzone.

Suddenly, a burst of automatic gunfire tore through the plaster wall inches from my head.

"Down!" Gabriel bellowed, tackling me to the floor as a hail of bullets shredded the family portraits above us.

"Contact! Multiple shooters coming up the east stairwell!" Vincenzo yelled, returning fire with thunderous roars from his assault rifle, casing brass clattering wildly against the marble floor.

"Move! Now!" Gabriel grabbed my hand, yanking me up and dragging me toward the reinforced panic shelter hidden behind a massive oil painting of the Falcone patriarch.

He punched the digital keypad with his left hand, shoving me inside just as another volley of bullets ricocheted off the steel door. Carmine dived in last, slamming the heavy reinforced lock shut just as heavy blows hammered against the exterior.

Inside the pitch-black shelter, emergency battery lamps flickered to life. The air was cool and sterile.

Gabriel immediately let go of my hand, but his eyes stayed locked on mine, checking for injuries. "Are you hit?"

"No," I breathed, trembling. "I'm okay."

Carmine was already monitoring the security feeds on the bunker’s internal console. His face went entirely white.

"Boss... you need to see this."

Gabriel stepped over to the monitor. I peeked over his shoulder.

On the screen, the camera feed from the courtyard showed the "external hit squad" breaching the gates. But they weren't rival cartel enforcers or random mercenaries. They wore tactical gear stamped with the private security insignia belonging to Vance Legal Holdings.