He Thought His Pregnant Wife Would Forgive Him Again—Until One Honeymoon Betrayal Cost the Mafia Boss His Family

"Down!" Matteo roared.

In a fraction of a second, the shattered man vanished, replaced by the lethal commander of the Rossi syndicate. Matteo lunged forward, throwing his entire body weight into Norah, slamming her back into the entryway just as high-caliber rifle rounds ripped through the timber door frame, splintering the cedar into flying shrapnel.

Norah hit the hardwood floor, Matteo’s massive frame shielding her completely. Bullets tore through the living room windows, shattering the double-paned glass into thousands of glistening shards.

"Clara!" Norah screamed, struggling beneath his weight.

"I’ve got you! Stay low!" Matteo barked.

He rolled off her, drawing a customized Sig Sauer from beneath his canvas jacket. Glass rained down around them as automatic fire tore through the cottage, chewing up the sofa, the bookshelves, and the drywall.

Matteo crawled across the shredded rug, reached into the bassinet behind the stone hearth, and lifted Clara into his chest, curving his spine into an impenetrable shield over the screaming infant. He crawled back to the small pantry hallway where Norah lay, tucking the baby safely into Norah’s trembling arms.

Clara was screaming at the top of her lungs, terrified by the deafening cracks of gunfire.

"Lucchese," Matteo spat, checking his magazine. "Carmine must have bugged my charter out of New Hampshire. He followed me here to wipe out my bloodline in one strike."

"They're going to kill her!" Norah cried, tears blinding her as she clutched Clara to her breast.

"They won't touch either of you," Matteo said. He looked into Norah’s eyes, and for the first time since she had known him, there was absolute, selfless clarity in his gaze. "Listen to me, Norah. In the basement, through the pantry floor—is there an exterior storm hatch?"

"Yes," she gasped. "It leads out to the drainage ditch behind the woodpile."

"Take Clara and run toward the highway. Arthur is stationed two miles north in an unmarked black sedan. Call him on this." Matteo shoved his private, encrypted satellite phone into her coat pocket. "He will extract you. He answers only to you now."

Norah looked at him in shock. "What about you?"

"I brought this war to your doorstep," Matteo said, slamming a fresh magazine into his weapon. "I’m ending it here."

A flash grenade bounced through the broken front window, detonating with a blinding flash and an ear-splitting crack. Outside, heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel porch. Four masked hitmen, armed with tactical carbines, were moving in for the sweep.

"Matteo—" Norah choked out, her hand catching his sleeve.

Matteo grabbed her face between his rough palms, pressing a fierce, desperate kiss to her forehead, then leaned down to touch his lips to Clara’s soft cheek.

"I love you, Norah," he whispered against her skin. "I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and I ruined it because I was a coward. Run. Live. Give our daughter a real life."

He shoved her toward the cellar trapdoor, rose to his feet, and stepped out into the hail of gunfire.

Matteo didn't take cover. He moved with cold, mechanical fury. His pistol barked three times in rapid succession. The lead gunman on the porch dropped with a round through his throat. Matteo kicked the front door open, firing through the rain. A second attacker fell from the roofline, crashing into the shrubs.

Automatic rounds ripped into Matteo’s left shoulder, spinning him around. Blood sprayed across the white paint of the hallway. Pain exploded through his torso, but Matteo didn't stop. He fired until his slide locked back, dropped the magazine, reloaded with one hand, and charged the remaining two mercenaries in the yard.

He took another bullet to his side, stumbling to one knee in the mud. But before the third gunman could level his rifle at the cottage, Matteo brought his weapon up and ended the man's life.

The fourth gunman, realizing the terrifying ferocity of the wounded beast before him, panicked, scrambled back into his black SUV, and sped away down the gravel drive.

Silence returned to the forest, broken only by the patter of rain and Matteo’s ragged, wheezing gasps.

Matteo collapsed onto his back in the wet grass, staring up at the gray canopy of pine trees. Blood was pooling beneath his back, hot and sticky against the cold earth. His vision began to tunnel into darkness.