The heavy oak doors of the great hall groaned open, carrying the heavy scent of imported cedar, pipe smoke, and the cold sweat of thirty-two terrified witnesses.

A dark, heavy shadow dropped from the ceiling beam directly above the doorway.

Lorenzo Duca didn't land like a man; he landed like an executioner. His left hand locked around the operative’s tactical vest, spinning him around with terrifying momentum, while his right hand brought the butt of his Sig Sauer down hard against the base of the man’s skull.

The operative slumped instantly, unconscious before he hit the floorboards.

Lorenzo didn't pause to check his pulse. He kicked the shattered wardrobe aside, reached down, and pulled the iron bolt of the panic room.

The heavy door swung open. Elena was huddled in the corner, shielding Mia with her entire body.

"It's over," Lorenzo said, his voice instantly softening as his dark eyes locked onto the child. He knelt down, dropping the heavy pistol onto the floor without a second thought. "You're safe now, Mia."

Mia crawled out from beneath Elena’s arms, ignoring the shattered wood and the lingering smell of gunpowder, and threw her tiny arms around Lorenzo’s neck. She buried her face into his shoulder, right over the coffee-stained lapel of his jacket.

"You smelled like smoke," she whispered into his ear.

Lorenzo wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tightly his own ribs ached. He looked up at Elena, who was shaking uncontrollably, her hands covered in dust and dried tears.

"Pack a bag," Lorenzo said quietly. "We're leaving."

Elena’s eyes widened in panic. "Leaving? Lorenzo, where? This is your home—"

"This house was built on blood and ledgers," Lorenzo said, standing up with Mia still clutched safely against his chest. "It’s time to build something that doesn't need walls."

As they walked out of the West Pavilion, stepping over the unconscious operative, Vincenzo Vance was waiting by the front steps, smoking a Turkish cigarette while estate guards loaded the remaining captured intruders into the back of a black van.

Vincenzo looked at Lorenzo, then down at the little girl holding a one-eyed rabbit against a mafia boss's heart.