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

Blood sprayed across the windshield as Caruso took a grazing hit to his shoulder, grunting in pain. "Clear the left flank!" he shouted over the deafening roar of automatic weapons.

Marco was a force of pure destruction, moving with lethal efficiency. He dropped two attackers in rapid succession, his face a mask of absolute, terrifying calm. "Lena! Get my mother into the stairwell of the parking structure! Now!"

Lena didn't hesitate. She threw her arm around Isabella’s waist, dragging the matriarch out of the shattered SUV and into the freezing rain. Gunfire chipped the concrete pillars around them, sending razor-sharp fragments of stone flying through the air.

They were five feet from the heavy steel door of the stairwell when a shooter emerged from the shadows between two parked sedans. His rifle was raised, the laser sight cutting through the rain directly toward Isabella’s back.

There was no time to scream. There was no time to push Isabella away.

In a fraction of a second, Lena stepped backward, shielding the seventy-two-year-old woman with her own body.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The impact felt like being struck by a freight train. Four hollow-point rounds tore into Lena’s chest and shoulder, the sheer force lifting her off her feet before driving her hard into the wet asphalt.

"No!" Marco’s roar tore through the night—a sound so primal and full of agony that it didn't sound human. His weapon barked twice, putting bullets directly between the shooter's eyes.

Marco dropped his gun and fell to his knees on the freezing pavement beside her. He gathered her limp, bleeding frame into his arms, his hands instantly soaked in her dark, warm blood.

Lena’s vision blurred, the edges of the world turning black. She reached up with a trembling, blood-stained hand, gripping the lapel of his tailored coat. She looked past him to Isabella, who was safe, weeping against the concrete wall.