Part 2: At my father’s funeral, sixty-three armed men were too terrified to meet my eyes—but a five-year-old girl walked straight through them and took my hand. Hours later, I discovered my father had secretly sent millions to protect her, and the reason threatened to expose the one truth he had taken to his grave.

The crack of high-caliber gunfire echoed through the narrow street before the sound of the glass hitting the floorboards even registered.

Instinct took over. I lunged forward, throwing my entire weight against Nora and Lily, tackling them both onto the hardwood hallway as a hail of automatic rounds tore through the entryway walls. Plaster exploded in white clouds. Wood splintered overhead, raining jagged debris across our backs.

Lily didn't scream. That was the most terrifying part. She pressed her face into my chest, her tiny fingers digging into the heavy fabric of my Kevlar-lined coat, trembling violently but utterly silent—as if she had been taught long ago that crying invited death.

"Stay down!" I barked at Nora.

I rolled off them, keeping my body between the doorway and the child, and drew the custom 9mm Kimber tucked into my shoulder holster. The smell of cordite and pulverized drywall filled the cramped hallway.

Outside, tires screeched against wet asphalt. Two distinct engines. A coordinated hit.

"They aren't here for me," Nora choked out, coughing through the plaster dust, dragging Lily toward the interior staircase. "Gabriel, they came because your father died! The truce ended the second he stopped breathing!"

"What truce?" I demanded, advancing down the ruined hallway toward the shattered window.

Through the torn lace curtains, I caught the silhouette of two men in tactical gear moving across the lawn. They moved with military precision—weapons raised, clearing corners. These weren't local street thugs looking for a shakedown. They were professionals.

I leaned around the brick lintel and fired three rapid shots.

The lead man took two rounds to the center mass, his body jerking backward into the hydrangea bushes. The second shooter scrambled behind a concrete birdbath, returning fire in controlled two-round bursts that chewed through the doorframe inches from my ear.

A deafening roar split the street.

Mateo’s armored Maybach crashed through the iron gates, obliterating the second shooter's cover. The front bumper crushed the stone birdbath into rubble. The driver’s side door swung open, and Mateo leaned out with an automatic shotgun, firing three devastating deafening blasts into the darkness. The remaining engine screeched in reverse, peeling away into the rain.

"Clear!" Mateo bellowed over the hiss of the radiator. "Boss! Get out of there! There are more coming from the north corridor!"

I turned back to the hallway. Nora was clutching Lily on the lower stairs, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hold the little girl. Lily was staring at the gun in my hand, her eyes wide, but her expression wasn't one of terror toward me—it was recognition.

"We move. Now," I commanded, sliding my weapon back into its holster and stripping off my heavy overcoat. I wrapped the wool around Lily, scooping her up into my left arm.

"Where are you taking her?" Nora cried, stumbling to her feet, dust covering her auburn hair.

"Somewhere they will have to burn down the entire city to reach," I said, grabbing Nora by the elbow and hauling her toward the front door. "Move, Miss Hart. Unless you'd like to explain to the coroner why this little girl died on your floor."

We sprinted across the ruined porch and dove into the reinforced passenger compartment of the Maybach. Mateo slammed the gas pedal to the floor the instant the heavy steel doors locked. The tires spun on wet grass before catching traction, throwing us back against the black leather seats as the car surged into the rain-slicked night.

Lily peeked out from the folds of my coat. She looked at the blood on my cuff—not mine, but the lead shooter’s splatter—and then looked up at my face.

"The gray man said you would be angry," she whispered softly.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped beast. "What else did he say, Lily?"

"He said you were angry because you thought he loved his kingdom more than you." She reached out a small, trembling hand and touched the falcon pin on my lapel. "He said to tell you the kingdom was a cage. And I was the key."

In the front seat, Mateo’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, wide with shock.

"Where to, Gabriel?" Mateo asked, his voice strained. "The estate is crawling with Silvio’s men. They called an emergency council for midnight."