The Mafia Boss’s Twins Had Days to Live, the Maid's Lost Child Was the Key to Saving them — Then the Most Feared Man in Chicago Fell to His Knees Before Her

Julian did not wake his army. He took only four of his most loyal, hand-picked enforcers. They drove in two unmarked black SUVs through the pouring rain, heading deep into the industrial district of Chicago.

Clara sat in the passenger seat, gripping the door handle as Julian drove with reckless, terrifying precision. They arrived at a dingy underground casino run by the Romanov Bratva.

“Stay in the car,” Julian ordered, racking the slide of his rifle. “Lock the doors. Do not open them for anyone but me.”

Clara watched through the tinted glass as Julian and his men kicked the heavy steel doors of the casino open. For ten agonizing minutes, she heard the muffled sounds of shouting, breaking glass, and the terrifying, rhythmic pop of suppressed gunfire.

When Julian emerged, his tailored suit was ruined, his knuckles were bruised, and he was dragging a bleeding Russian lieutenant by the collar. He threw the man against the hood of the SUV.

“Where is the girl?” Julian roared, pressing the barrel of his pistol against the man’s kneecap.

“Pier 18!” the lieutenant sobbed, coughing up blood. “They’re moving her onto a cargo ship bound for Europe tonight! Romanov knows you’re coming!”

Julian executed the man without a second thought. He got back into the car, his breathing heavy, his hands slick with rain and blood. He looked over at Clara, who was staring at him in shock.