"He Watched Her Take Five Bullets for His Mother and Then the Most Feared Man in Chicago Fell Apart

The security protocols at the Duca estate were state-of-the-art, but the Russians had brought military-grade C4. The front gates were blown off their hinges, and fifteen heavily armed mercenaries swarmed the courtyard.

Caruso was down at the docks with half the garrison, leaving only a dozen guards to hold the main house. The sound of assault rifles echoed through the grand hallways as Lena dragged Isabella toward the panic room concealed behind the library bookshelves.

"Maya!" Lena screamed over the din of gunfire, her heart slamming against her ribs. "Where is Maya?!"

"I'm here!" Maya's terrified voice echoed from the top of the grand staircase. She was hobbling down as fast as her recovering leg would allow.

Suddenly, the front double doors were blown inward in a shower of splintered mahogany. Three Russian operatives in black tactical gear stepped into the foyer, their rifles raised.

Lena didn't think. The focused survival instinct that Isabella had admired kicked in with absolute clarity. She grabbed a heavy bronze statuette from the hallway table and hurled it with all her might, striking the lead shooter square in the face.

As he staggered back, cursing in Russian, Lena shoved Isabella and Maya into the library corridor. "Go! Get to the vault!"

She turned to lock the heavy oak door behind them, but a heavy boot slammed against the wood, kicking it open. The Russian shooter grabbed Lena by the hair, dragging her out into the center of the foyer, pressing the hot barrel of his rifle against her throat.

"Where is the old woman?" the mercenary barked, his eyes wild. "Tell me, or I blow your throat out!"