Her mafia boss husband vanished with his consultant at the family anniversary gala, so she told the ballroom to play the footage

The penthouse fell dead silent.

The wind from the harbor howled through the unfinished window frames, whipping Lena’s coat around her knees.

Luca turned toward her. For the first time since the gala, the absolute, impenetrable mask of the mafia Don was gone. He looked exhausted, the lines around his eyes etched deep with sleepless nights and brutal realities.

"Lena," he began, taking a step toward her.

Before he could finish the sentence, the glass behind him shattered into a thousand glittering shards.

*Crack.*

The sound of a high-caliber rifle shot echoed across the open floor plan from the adjacent construction crane two hundred yards away.

Luca didn't shout. He moved with a speed that defied his size. In a fraction of a second, he threw his entire weight across the space, wrapping his arms around Lena’s waist and slamming her down behind the low concrete parapet of the elevator shaft.

*Crack. Crack.*

Two more rounds tore through the plywood table, sending splinters and plastic raining over their heads.

"Sniper on the crane!" Marco roared, ducking behind a steel support pillar, his weapon drawn. "Return fire! Get the boss down!"

Lena was pinned beneath Luca’s heavy chest, her face pressed against the rough wool of his lapel. She could smell the iron of the concrete dust, the cold harbor air, and the sharp, familiar scent of his cedarwood aftershave. His hand was pressed firmly against the back of her head, protecting her skull, his body acting as a complete human shield.

"Luca," she gasped, her hands clutching his arms. "Luca, get off me, you're exposed—"

A soft, wet gasp escaped his lips.

Luca’s body jerked. A shudder ran through his entire frame, his fingers tightening violently in her hair.

"Luca!"

The sniper fire abruptly ceased as Marco and two other men opened up with sustained, rhythmic bursts toward the crane cabin across the gap. A distant scream and the sound of metal collapsing echoed over the harbor.

"Clear!" Marco yelled, sprinting toward them. "Crane is clear! Call the medic to the garage!"

Lena scrambled out from beneath him, her hands slipping on the cold concrete.

Luca rolled onto his back, his breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. His left hand was pressed against his side, just beneath his ribs.

Between his fingers, dark, thick blood was already soaking through his white shirt, spreading across the navy fabric of his suit like an ink stain.

"Luca," Lena choked out, dropping to her knees beside him. Her composure, her cold, architectural detachment, shattered into pieces. She pressed both hands against his side, putting all her weight into the wound. "Luca, look at me. Look at my face."

Luca’s eyelids fluttered. He looked up at her through the haze of shock, a faint, bloody smile touching the corner of his lips.

"You... you still remember the drill," he whispered, his voice bubbling with a faint red froth.

"Shut up," Lena snapped, tears finally burning down her cheeks, hot and uncontrolled. "Shut up and keep your eyes open. Marco! Where is the pressure dressing?"

"Hold on, boss!" Marco knelt beside them, tearing open a field trauma kit.

Luca reached up with a blood-stained hand, his fingers curling around Lena’s wrist. His grip was surprisingly weak, the strength draining out of him into the cold concrete.

"I didn't... I didn't touch her, Lena," he gasped, his dark eyes searching hers with a desperate, dying intensity. "In that room... I swear on my life... I never touched her."

"I know," Lena sobbed, leaning down until her forehead touched his. "I know, you idiot. Now stop talking. Stop talking and breathe."

"The papers..." Luca whispered, his vision beginning to dim. "I signed them... this morning..."

"What papers?"

"The transfer..." Luca choked out, his head lolling to the side. "The Grand Beacon... it's yours. All of it. Clean... no Corvino money... just yours..."

His eyes rolled back, and his hand slipped from her wrist, hitting the concrete floor with a dull, hollow thud.