The soon-to-be wife of Naples’ most ruthless syndicate boss struck me in front of ten elite crime families, mocking that I was “just a servant.” But when my four-year-old daughter stepped between us holding her gray knitted elephant, the underworld king himself noticed that her toy bore a crest linked to a mole inside his organization.

Don Moretti was brutally tackled to the ground by three massive federal agents, his expensive cigar crushed into the dirty concrete beneath him.

The once-powerful mafia boss who had terrorized Naples for decades was now just a pathetic, broken old man being tightly handcuffed in the dirt.

Camilla was aggressively dragged back into the center of the room by a female officer, kicking and screaming obscenities as cold steel cuffs were slapped onto her wrists.

She locked eyes with me one last time, her beautiful face contorted into a mask of pure, helpless rage as she realized she had lost everything.

Lorenzo quickly dropped his stolen weapon, wrapping his strong, bloodied arms securely around me and pulling me tightly against his rapidly heaving chest.

“It is finally over, my love,” he whispered into my hair, his large body trembling slightly from the massive adrenaline crash.

Marco suddenly emerged from the shadowy back entrance, flashing a quick, relieved grin as he safely escorted us through a secure, unguarded drainage pipe.

We miraculously escaped completely into the dark night just as the overwhelming police presence fully secured the perimeter of the ruined steel mill.