The heavy rain hammered against the roof of the SUV as we sped toward downtown Chicago.

I sat in the passenger seat, my hands clenched so tightly in my lap that my knuckles were white. Luca drove with one hand casually draped over the steering wheel, his face a mask of predatory focus.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Luca didn’t look away from the road. “I am sure that if Anthony Trench thinks he can sell out my organization and put your family in danger, he is severely mistaken about how long he has left to live.”

We pulled up to the rear entrance of First City Bank. It was 11:15 PM. The bank was closed, the windows dark, but Luca didn’t park on the street. He drove directly into the underground executive garage.

“Stay close,” he ordered, putting the SUV in park and drawing his weapon.

I followed him out into the dimly lit concrete garage. The air smelled of damp exhaust and ozone.

Near the private elevator that led straight to the vault, a sleek silver Mercedes was parked diagonally, the driver’s side door left wide open.

“Trench’s car,” Luca murmured.

We approached the elevator. The doors were pried slightly apart. Luca slipped his fingers into the gap and effortlessly wrenched the heavy steel doors open.

The elevator car was gone, but the cables were humming. Trench had already gone down to the subterranean vault level.

Luca gestured toward the emergency stairwell.

We descended three flights in total silence. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I wasn’t a mafia soldier. I was a housekeeper. Just three hours ago, my biggest concern was getting a wine stain out of a tablecloth. Now, I was sneaking into a bank vault to steal a decryption key to save my sister’s life.

At the bottom of the stairs, Luca cracked the heavy fire door open.

The vault lobby was softly illuminated by emergency lights.

Standing in front of the massive, circular steel vault door was Anthony Trench. He was holding a gun on the terrified night manager, who was frantically typing a code into the security panel.

“Hurry up!” Trench hissed, his usually slick hair disheveled, sweat shining on his forehead. “Open it before she gets here!”

“I can’t bypass the biometric lock on Box 402, Mr. Trench,” the manager whimpered. “It specifically requires Emma Reed’s fingerprint.”

Trench cursed violently, pressing the gun harder into the man’s neck. “Then drill it! I am not going to let that little maid ruin my life!”

“You’re going to have a hard time doing that without hands, Anthony.”

Trench spun around at the sound of Luca’s voice.

Luca stepped out of the stairwell, his gun raised, perfectly steady. I stayed right behind his broad shoulders.

Trench’s face drained of color. “Luca… Boss… wait. You don’t understand. I was trying to protect you! Vanessa is a liability!”

“Drop the gun, Anthony.”

“She’s going to ruin us, Luca!” Trench pleaded, his hands shaking as he kept his weapon aimed at the manager. “The Russos have her debt! They’ll use it to claim our territory! If I destroy the ledger key, they have no proof!”

“And what happens to the girl’s sister?” Luca asked coldly.

Trench scoffed, a desperate, ugly sound. “She’s collateral damage! We lose one civilian to save the empire. That’s the business, Luca!”

The casual way he dismissed my sister’s life snapped something inside me.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

I stepped out from behind Luca, pulling the heavy gold lighter from my pocket, and hurled it with all my strength.

The heavy metal struck Trench squarely in the forehead.

He yelled in pain, stumbling backward, his gun dropping toward the floor.

In that split second, Luca closed the distance. He grabbed Trench by the lapels of his expensive suit and slammed him brutally against the steel wall of the vault.

Trench slumped to the floor, groaning, entirely subdued.

Luca didn’t shoot him. He turned to the shaking bank manager.

“Open the vault,” Luca commanded gently.

The manager scrambled to comply, spinning the massive wheel. The steel door groaned open.

“Go, Emma,” Luca said, keeping his eyes on Trench.

I ran into the vault, finding the row of boxes. Box 402. I pressed my thumb against the small biometric scanner. It beeped green. The tiny door clicked open.

Inside was a single, small black USB drive. The decryption key.

I grabbed it, clutching it to my chest, and ran back out to Luca.

“I have it,” I breathed.

Luca nodded. He looked down at Trench, who was holding his bleeding head.

“You’re done in this city, Anthony,” Luca said. “When this is over, you will disappear, or I will put you in the ground.”

He grabbed my arm, leading me back toward the stairs.

“We have the key,” Luca said as we climbed. “Now we go to the railyard. We make the trade. We get Chloe.”

But as we reached the ground floor and stepped back into the garage, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

I opened it.

It was a photo of my sister, tied to a chair in a dark, empty train car.

Beneath the photo was a message.

Change of plans, little bird. Don’t bring the key to the railyard. Bring it to the Bellini estate. Come alone. Or she burns.

I stopped walking. My blood turned to ice.

“Emma?” Luca asked, stopping beside me. “What is it?”

I looked up at him, the horrifying truth finally hitting me.

“It’s not Dominic Russo,” I whispered.

Luca frowned. “What?”

“The Russos don’t have Chloe,” I said, showing him the photo. “Vanessa does.”