The black SUV with tinted bulletproof glass glided through the iron gates of an estate hidden deep within the forested hills of northern New Jersey.

By the second week, a strange, quiet rhythm had settled over the estate.

I was given permission to walk in the private interior courtyard—a high-walled garden filled with white roses, marble fountains, and ancient stone benches, entirely enclosed by the mansion's concrete wings. It was the only place I could feel the sun on my face without being flanked by three armed bodyguards.

I sat on a stone bench, holding Rose while she slept in a light fleece blanket. The afternoon sun was warm, filtering through the yellow leaves of the autumn trees.

A tall, lean man with sharp features and a severe scar running from his left ear to his collarbone stepped into the courtyard. It was Viktor, Nathan's chief of security and right-hand man.

"Mrs. Brooks," Viktor said, giving me a respectful, precise nod. "Mr. Cross requested that I update you on our security protocols for the evening."

"Is something wrong?" I asked, instinctively pulling Rose closer.

"We have received intelligence that Mario Moretti has hired foreign mercenaries," Viktor explained, his eyes constantly scanning the perimeter walls above us. "Former eastern European special forces. They do not operate by the traditional rules of the syndicate. They do not care about collateral damage."

"Are we in danger here?"

"This house is a fortress, Mrs. Brooks," Viktor assured me. "We have heavy weaponry, fifty trained operators, and reinforced steel shutters built into every window. But Mr. Cross wants you and the child moved to the underground bunker tonight as a precaution while we conduct an offensive sweep."

I looked down at Rose. "Does Nathan ever stop fighting?"

Viktor smiled thinly, a cold, expressionless movement. "In our world, Mrs. Brooks, the moment you stop fighting is the moment your enemies put a bullet in the back of your head. Mr. Cross did not seek this war. But when his wife died, Moretti mistook his grief for weakness. Moretti thought he could take the Northeast territory. He was wrong."

"Nathan loved his wife very much?" I asked, a sudden curiosity popping up in my chest.

Viktor paused, looking toward the high stone windows of the master suite. "Lady Isabella was the daughter of a Sicilian boss. It was an arranged marriage to secure an alliance. Mr. Cross respected her. He cared for her safety. But love?" Viktor shook his head slowly. "I have known Nathan Cross since we were boys in Palermo. I have only seen him look at two things with true, raw devotion."

He looked at Rose, then his sharp eyes shifted directly to me.

"His daughter," Viktor said quietly. "And the woman who saved her."

Before I could process the weight of his words, a sudden, muffled thump echoed from the far side of the estate grounds, followed instantly by the high-pitched blare of a security siren.

Viktor’s hand flashed into his jacket, drawing a heavy black pistol with terrifying speed. He stepped in front of me, using his body as a shield.

"Incursion!" Viktor barked into a radio mounted on his lapel. "North gate! Teams three and four, engage!"

The static on his radio exploded with gunfire and chaotic shouting.

"We are moving now!" Viktor commanded, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the reinforced steel doors leading back into the mansion.

Panic seized my chest like an iron vise. I clutched Rose against my chest, covering her head with my hands as the peaceful garden was instantly transformed into a war zone. Explosions shook the ground beneath our feet, shattering the stained-glass windows of the upper conservatory.

We burst into the main hallway just as Nathan came charging down the grand staircase, holding a tactical rifle, his black suit jacket replaced by a heavy Kevlar vest.

"Viktor! Get them to the vault!" Nathan roared over the sound of automatic gunfire echoing from the front gates.

Nathan sprinted toward us, his face dark with lethal intent. He reached out, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me briefly against his chest, his eyes locking onto mine with absolute intensity.

"Get inside the vault," Nathan ordered, his breath hot against my cheek. "Do not open it for anyone except me or Viktor. Do you understand me, Elena?"

"Nathan, be careful!" I screamed over the din of shattering glass.