THE EXIT STRATEGY

The warehouse smelled of rust, stale water, and cheap cigars.

I was tied to a hard wooden chair in the center of the massive, empty room.

The rope dug painfully into my wrists, but my only focus was on my breathing.

In. Out. Protect the baby.

Victor Moretti stood ten feet away, pacing slowly like a starved wolf.

He was a brutally ugly man, with a jagged scar running down his jawline and eyes completely devoid of humanity.

"You're a brave girl, Norah," Victor mocked, lighting a fresh cigar. "Running from Matteo Rossi. Stealing his money. Coming to my city. You've got more guts than half my crew."

"I didn't come here for you," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the absolute terror freezing my blood.

"I know," Victor chuckled. "You came for old Marcus. Trying to find out what happened to daddy."

He walked closer, blowing smoke into the cold air.

"Matteo is a cold-blooded bastard. But I have to admit, marrying the daughter of the accountant he whacked? That's a special kind of sick."

I closed my eyes, the confirmation hitting me again.

It was true.

Everything was built on a lie.

"But Matteo isn't why I brought you here," Victor continued, pulling his phone from his pocket. "You see, Matteo has been choking my supply lines for three years. He took my ports. He took my casinos. And he took my brother's life."

Victor's eyes darkened with raw hatred.

"I want it all back."

He dialed a number on his phone and put it on speaker.

It rang only once before Matteo answered.

"Victor." Matteo's voice was unrecognizable. It wasn't the smooth, arrogant businessman I knew. It was the voice of a predator backed into a corner.

"Matteo, old friend," Victor smiled. "I hear you're missing something."

"If you touch her," Matteo said, every syllable dripping with violence, "I will peel the skin from your bones while you are still breathing."

"Big words," Victor laughed. "Say hello to your husband, Norah."

Victor grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back.

A sharp cry of pain escaped my lips.

"Norah!" Matteo shouted through the speaker. "Norah, are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" I yelled back, tears stinging my eyes. "Don't give him anything, Matteo! Do you hear me?"

Victor let go of my hair, chuckling darkly.

"She's feisty. Now listen to me very carefully, Rossi. I want the deeds to the Boston docks. I want the offshore accounts you seized. And I want you to walk into my warehouse alone to sign them over."

Silence on the line.

Victor was asking Matteo to surrender his entire empire, and then walk into a death trap.

"If you don't," Victor added casually, "I'll carve the bastard out of her stomach and mail it to you."

"I'll give you everything."

Matteo didn't even hesitate.

The absolute certainty in his voice shocked me.

For three years, I had watched Matteo destroy lives to build his wealth. His power was his entire identity.

And he had just surrendered it in less than two seconds.

"Three hours, Rossi," Victor said. "Come alone. If I see a single one of your men, she dies."

Victor hung up.

He smiled down at me.

"Looks like your husband actually cares."

Victor turned and walked toward a small metal desk in the corner of the room, leaving me guarded by two massive men with assault rifles.

I desperately shifted my hands against the ropes.

They were tied tight, but my left hand—the hand missing my wedding ring—was slightly looser.

I needed a distraction.

I looked around the dim warehouse.

My eyes landed on a small, crumpled piece of paper near the leg of the metal desk.

Victor had dropped it when he pulled his phone from his pocket.

The wind from a broken window blew the paper closer to me.

I stared at it.

It was a child's drawing.

Crayon on lined notebook paper.

A drawing of a small house, a dog, and two figures holding hands.

Written at the top, in clumsy letters, was: FOR UNCLE V.

Uncle V. Victor.

Victor Moretti had a family. A niece or nephew.

A sickening realization washed over me.

Matteo didn't just take Victor's business. Matteo had a reputation for finding leverage.

If Matteo knew about this child...

"Hey," I called out, my voice raspy.

Victor looked over his shoulder, annoyed. "Shut up."

"Your nephew," I said quietly.

Victor froze. The cigar fell from his lips.

"What did you say?"

"The drawing," I nodded toward the floor. "Uncle V. Does Matteo know where the boy is?"

Victor rushed over, his face purple with rage. He grabbed my throat, cutting off my air.

"How do you know about Leo?" he hissed, spittle flying onto my face.

"I... I saw the files," I choked out, lying to save my life. "The flash drive I took from Matteo. It had locations. Safehouses."

Victor's grip loosened slightly.

"Matteo has men watching your family," I gasped for air as he let go. "If you kill me... if you kill Matteo... his men have standing orders to execute your nephew."

It was a bluff. A desperate, wild bluff built on my knowledge of how ruthless these men were.

Victor stared at me, panic finally breaking through his arrogant facade.

"You're lying."

"Call Matteo," I challenged, staring him down. "Ask him about Leo."

Before Victor could reach for his phone, a massive explosion rocked the warehouse doors.

The steel doors blew completely off their hinges, flying through the air and crushing one of Victor's guards instantly.

Thick, blinding smoke flooded the room.

Automatic gunfire erupted.

Victor dove behind the metal desk, screaming orders.

I squeezed my eyes shut, coughing violently as the smoke filled my lungs.

Strong hands suddenly grabbed my shoulders.

A sharp knife sliced through the ropes binding my wrists.