820 "After Witnessing a Cold-Blooded 'Execution' in His Office Six Years Ago, I Fled and Hid His Twins in Secret—Until the Mafia Boss Tracked Us Down, Only to Reveal the Heart-Stopping Truth That Sent Us Straight Into a War Against the Feds."

The name hung in the cramped, quiet hallway, heavy enough to crush the air right out of my lungs.

"Vivien," Luca repeated, his tone flat, measured, carrying through the thick oak door with terrifying clarity. "I know you're in there. And I know you aren't alone."

My fingers tightened around the handle of the cast-iron skillet until my forearm ached. Every instinct screamed at me to bolt, to pick up my children and throw us out the second-story window into the alley below. But my feet were glued to the linoleum, paralyzed by the realization that running was no longer an option. If Luca Moretti had tracked us to Portland, he had the entire city locked down. There was no escape.

"Mama, I'm scared," Maya whimpered, running out from her bedroom and throwing her arms around my waist, burying her face in my jeans.

I dropped the skillet—it hit the floor with a dull, heavy thud—and knelt down, wrapping my arms around both Maya and Leo, pulling them tight against my chest.

"Listen to me," I whispered fiercely, pressing my forehead against Maya’s curls. "Whatever happens out there, you stay in this hallway. Do not make a sound. Do you understand?"

"Who is that, Mama?" Leo asked, his voice entirely devoid of childhood panic, carrying that same chilling composure I had seen in Luca a thousand times.

"A ghost," I murmured, standing back up and wiping a stray tear from my cheek.

I walked down the narrow hall, each step feeling like I was walking toward an executioner's block. I reached out, my fingers hovering over the deadbolt for a long, agonizing second, before I turned it with a sharp, mechanical click.

I pulled the door open six inches.

The hallway light spilled out onto the landing, illuminating the tall, imposing figure standing in the shadows. Luca Moretti looked older—harder around the edges, the lines beside his eyes deeper, his dark hair threaded with silver at the temples. He wore a tailored black overcoat, rain glistening on the shoulders, and his dark eyes were locked onto mine with an intensity that burned right through me.

For three seconds, neither of us breathed.