THE MOMENT THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED HIS EIGHT-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER “AN EMBARRASSMENT TO THIS FAMILY,” I PLACED A HANDWRITTEN PLACE CARD BESIDE HIS STEAK AT THEIR ENGAGEMENT DINNER—BECAUSE THE LITTLE GIRL HAD BEEN WAITING UPSTAIRS IN HER BEST DRESS FOR TWO HOURS. -

Chapter 3 – THE TORN COAT IN THE ALLEY

My lungs stopped working.

The photograph slipped from my fingers, landing on the floor mats of the SUV.

“Sarah?” Dante’s voice cut through my panic. “What is it?”

“My sister,” I choked out, tears instantly blinding me. “They have my sister.”

Dante slammed on the brakes, pulling the heavy vehicle into a deserted industrial lot. He threw the SUV into park and turned around in his seat, his eyes blazing in the dark.

“Let me see it.”

I handed him the photograph. He studied the red ink, then the angle of the picture.

“This was taken today,” Dante said, his voice dropping to a dangerous frequency. “The coffee shop is on 4th Avenue. Near your apartment.”

“Why would they take Chloe?” I sobbed, clutching Mia closer to me. “She doesn’t know anything about you! We’re just normal people!”

“Because you’re close to me,” Dante said, his jaw tightening. “Vance didn’t give me this to threaten you. He gave it to me as a warning. The FBI didn’t raid my house tonight, Sarah.”

I wiped my face. “What do you mean?”

“Vance lied,” Dante said grimly. “Isabella isn’t an FBI informant. She’s working for the Moretti family. And Vance just locked my entire inner circle in a room with her so the Morettis could slaughter them.”

The realization hit me like a physical blow. Vance hadn’t sacrificed himself; he had betrayed Dante.

Mia began to cry softly. “Daddy, I’m scared.”

“I know, baby,” Dante said, his tone instantly softening. “But I promise you, nobody is going to hurt you. And Sarah, I promise I will get your sister back.”

Dante pulled out a burner phone and dialed a number. “Marco. We have a rat. Vance flipped to the Morettis. I need a tactical team at Sarah Mitchell’s apartment, right now.”

He hung up and threw the SUV back into drive.

We tore through the streets of Brooklyn, breaking every traffic law. We reached my apartment building in twelve minutes.

Dante parked in the alley behind the building. “Stay in the car. Keep the doors locked. If anyone besides me approaches, hit the horn.”

He drew his weapon and vanished into the shadows of the fire escape.

I sat in the dark, holding my breath, praying my sister was alive. Mia buried her face in my shoulder.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Suddenly, a heavy thud echoed from the alley.

I jumped. I looked through the tinted window.

A figure was staggering out of the darkness. It wasn’t Dante. It was a woman, wearing a torn beige coat.

She collapsed onto the wet pavement, clutching her stomach.

It was Isabella.

She was bleeding.

I hesitated, but my instincts took over. I couldn’t let someone bleed to death in an alley, even a monster. I cracked the door open.

“Isabella?” I whispered.

She looked up, her face pale, her engagement ring covered in dirt.

“Sarah,” Isabella coughed, blood spilling from her lips. “You have to hide her.”

“Hide who?” I asked.

Isabella reached into her torn coat and pulled out a heavy gold bracelet.

“The Morettis don’t want the territory,” Isabella gasped, her eyes wide with pure terror. “They want Mia.”

Before I could process her words, the glass of the passenger window shattered inward, and a massive hand grabbed my hair, yanking me out into the cold night.