Part 1: The Dark Descent

The pediatric ICU room was a blur of chrome, white sheets, and flashing red indicators.

Luca’s tiny body looked so small beneath the massive oxygen hood, his chest heaving as the medical team injected emergency fluids into his tiny leg.

Giovanni stood at the foot of the bed, his large hands resting on the stainless steel railing, his face completely frozen in an expression of ancient, dark fury.

He was a man who ruled the shipping docks and private banks of New England with total, unyielding violence.

But looking at the fragile life of the son he hadn't known existed twenty minutes ago, his empire meant absolutely nothing.

— Increase the broad-spectrum antibiotics, Dr. Sullivan ordered, his hands moving with frantic precision. The spinal tap results just came back. It’s not viral. It’s bacterial.

The word felt like a physical hammer hitting my skull.

Bacterial meningitis.

I collapsed against the wall, my soaked blouse clinging to my skin, my strength entirely gone.

Giovanni moved instantly, catching me by my waist before I could hit the floor, lifting me effortlessly into his arms and setting me in the plastic chair beside the incubator.

— He’s going to live, Lauren, Giovanni hissed in my ear, his breath hot and commanding. Because if he doesn't, I will personally dismantle every foundation stone of this city.

He turned back to Marco, who was standing at the door with a secure satellite phone.

— Who brought the infection into her apartment building? Giovanni asked, his voice dropping into a register that made the nursing staff freeze.

Marco looked down at his tablet, his fingers scrolling through a hidden database.

— The building on 4th Street is owned by a subsidiary of the Caruso family, Boss, Marco reported quietly. They intentionally cut the heating lines last week to force the tenants out for redevelopment. The dampness in the basement caused a severe mold and bacterial outbreak in the ventilation system.

The Caruso family.

The same syndicate Giovanni had spent the last three years trying to push out of the Boston harbor.

They hadn't targeted Luca intentionally; they didn't even know I was living in that cheap, anonymous apartment under my maiden name.

But their corporate greed had nearly killed my son.

Giovanni walked over to the glass window, looking out at the helicopter idling on the roof pad across the courtyard.

— Call New York, Giovanni ordered, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm whisper. Tell Johnny Caruso that the truce we signed in November is officially void.

— Boss? Marco asked, his eyes widening slightly. That will start a three-state war.