"""Two soaked twin girls ran into a Chicago cafe and grabbed the sleeve of Nathan Russo, the mafia boss every adult feared. One whispered, 'Please, that man is not our dad.' The smiling stranger called them his daughters, so Nathan asked, 'Which one is June?' and watched his face go blank.

The peace in Chicago broke within forty-eight hours.

First, one of Nathan's primary distribution warehouses on the West Side was firebombed. Then, two of his captains were ambushed outside a restaurant in Loop. The Falcone family was sending a clear, bloody message: Hand over the woman and the twins, or we will burn your city to the ground.

Nathan convened a meeting of his top capos in the basement of Bellini’s Cafe. The air was thick with cigar smoke and tension.

"We're losing money, Nathan," one of his older capos, Marco, argued, slamming his fist on the table. "And for what? A woman and two kids we don't even know? The Falcones are offering us a clean slate if we just give them back what’s theirs."

Nathan slowly leaned forward, the light catching the silver ring on his finger. The room went dead silent.

"What is theirs?" Nathan asked, his voice a low, lethal purr. "Since when do we let East Coast scum come into Chicago and tell us who we can protect? Today it’s a mother and her kids. Tomorrow it's your territory, Marco. If we bow to them now, we might as well hand them the keys to the city."

He stood up, looking at every man in the room. "We do not sell children. We do not negotiate with human traffickers. Anyone who has a problem with that can leave this room right now—but you leave everything you own in Chicago behind."