For three days, the mansion felt like a fortress preparing for a siege.

Armed guards patrolled the grounds, the heavy iron gates remained locked, and the atmosphere was thick with tension. The war with the Russo family had officially begun.

I spent most of my time in the library, trying to distract myself with books, but my mind kept drifting to Luca. He was working around the clock, managing the conflict from his study, coordinating strikes and defenses against Dominic Russo’s aggressive pushes into his territory.

I felt completely useless.

On the fourth evening, I couldn’t take the isolation anymore. I walked down to the kitchen and made a plate of sandwiches and a pot of strong black coffee.

I carried the tray to Luca’s study and knocked softly on the heavy oak door.

“Enter,” his voice called out, rough with exhaustion.

I pushed the door open. The study was a mess. Blueprints and maps were spread across the large conference table. Luca was leaning over them, his shirt sleeves rolled up, a half-empty glass of scotch resting near a map of the Chicago docks.

He looked up, surprise flashing in his eyes before softening.

“You should be asleep, Emma,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So should you,” I replied, setting the tray down on a small side table. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Luca sighed, walking over and taking a sandwich. He looked at me, the heavy burden of leadership visible in the lines around his eyes.

“Dominic is pushing hard,” Luca admitted quietly, a rare moment of vulnerability. “He’s using guerrilla tactics. Hitting my shipments, burning my warehouses, and vanishing before my men can retaliate. He’s bleeding my resources to force a surrender.”

I walked over to the map on the table. It was covered in red pushpins marking the locations of the Russo attacks.

I stared at the pins.

My father was an accountant, and for years, before everything fell apart, I used to help him organize his files. I knew how to look for patterns in numbers and locations.

“Luca,” I said slowly, tracing my finger over the map. “Look at where he’s hitting.”

Luca stepped up beside me, his presence warm and grounding. “They’re random strikes to cause chaos.”

“No, they aren’t,” I said, my pulse quickening. “Look. Warehouse 4, Pier 9, the rail yard at 5th Street. They form a perimeter.”

Luca frowned, leaning closer.

“He’s not just burning warehouses,” I explained, drawing an imaginary circle connecting the red pins. “He’s clearing a path. These locations all have one thing in common. They’re the security checkpoints leading directly to the old shipping canal.”

Luca went perfectly still.

“The canal,” he breathed, his eyes widening in realization. “The canal leads directly to the underbelly of my central armory. He isn’t trying to take the docks. He’s creating a diversion to raid my weapons supply.”

He looked at me, sheer amazement breaking through his exhaustion.

“You just figured out what my top three strategists missed in three days,” Luca said softly.

I blushed, looking down at the map. “I’m used to cleaning up messes. You just have to know where the dirt comes from.”

Luca reached out, his fingers gently lifting my chin until I met his dark, intense gaze.

“You are extraordinary, Emma Reed,” he whispered.

The air between us suddenly grew thick, charged with an electric tension that had been building since the night in the wine cellar. He leaned in, his gaze dropping to my lips.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it more than anything.

But before our lips could meet, the study door burst open.

Daniel ran in, bleeding from a cut on his forehead, his gun drawn.

“Boss!” Daniel yelled. “They bypassed the outer perimeter! The Russos are inside the estate!”

Luca instantly stepped in front of me, drawing his weapon. “How many?”

“A dozen, at least,” Daniel panted. “Dominic is leading them. They cut the power to the security grid. They’re coming up the main staircase.”

Gunfire erupted from the hallway, shattering a priceless vase just outside the study door.

“They want to corner us in here,” Luca said, his mind working furiously. He looked at the heavy oak doors, then at me.

“Emma, is there another way out?”

I looked around the study. I had cleaned this room a hundred times. I knew every inch of the wainscoting, every bookshelf, every hidden corner.

“Yes,” I said, running toward the massive bookcase on the far wall. “When I was dusting the top shelves last month, I found a latch. It’s an old servant’s passage that leads to the sub-basement garage.”

I reached behind a row of leather-bound encyclopedias and pulled a small brass lever.

With a soft click, the entire bookcase swung inward, revealing a dark, narrow corridor.

“Go,” Luca ordered, shoving Daniel into the passage.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me in right behind him, and slammed the bookcase shut just as Dominic Russo’s men kicked open the study doors.