Part 2: I never told my Mafia ex-husband about my triplets. Then one of my sons pointed at him across a Manhattan ballroom and asked, “Is that our dad?”

I shoved the three boys through the heavy steel door just as automatic gunfire erupted in the living room.

*RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!*

The sound of splintering mahogany, shattering crystal chandeliers, and shouting men filled the air. I slammed the panic room door shut, engaging the heavy manual bolt.

Inside, the room was dimly lit with emergency red LEDs. A bank of surveillance monitors lined the wall. Caleb was sobbing uncontrollably, his tiny hands clutching my knees. Noah and Liam stood frozen, their eyes locked on the screens.

On the middle monitor, I saw Gabriel.

He was not running. He was an apex predator in his element. Moving with lethal grace, he ducked behind a reinforced marble pillar as plaster rained down around him. Two masked men armed with submachine guns swept into the foyer.

Gabriel pivoted around the pillar, firing three precise shots. The first intruder crumpled to the floor instantly. The second stumbled back, clutching his chest, before falling still.

“Mommy...” Liam whispered in awe, his fingers trembling against the edge of the console. “He’s... he’s fighting the bad guys.”

“Close your eyes, Liam!” I ordered frantically, trying to shield all three of them with my body. “Don’t look!”

On screen, Gabriel discarded his empty magazine, loaded another with a sharp flick of his wrist, and advanced toward the shattered doorway. But then, three more men appeared, tossing a metallic cylinder into the room.

A flashbang grenade.

A blinding white light exploded across the screen, followed by harsh static on the audio feed.

“Gabriel!” I screamed at the monitor.

The screen flickered. When the smoke cleared, Gabriel was on one knee, shaking his head to clear the disorientation. A hulking man in a heavy tactical vest walked into frame, aiming a shotgun directly at Gabriel’s head.

My breath stopped. The world went dead silent.

Just as the gunman took aim, Marco appeared from the corridor behind him, plunging a tactical blade into the man's throat and driving him to the floor. Marco grabbed Gabriel’s arm, pulling him up.

Gabriel spoke into his radio, his lips moving rapidly.

A second later, the intercom inside our panic room clicked on.

*“Claire,”* Gabriel’s voice was ragged, breathing heavy, but steady. *“The floor is clear. But we have to move now. They’ve cut the main power grid to the block. We have four minutes before secondary teams breach the lobby.”*

I unlocked the heavy door, my hands trembling violently.

When the door swung open, the scent of gunpowder, copper, and ozone hit me like a wall. Gabriel was standing there. His white dress shirt was torn at the shoulder, stained with dark blood, but his eyes were blazing with fierce, protective fury.

He looked at the boys, then at me.