THE MAFIA BOSS FOUND HIS PREGNANT WIFE LIVING IN A BASEMENT

I pushed my SUV past eighty miles per hour through the slick, rain-drenched streets of Boston, blowing through red lights with my hazard flashers cutting through the darkness. Behind me, two vanloads of heavily armed Ghost Squad enforcers trailed close behind, their headlights slicing through the stormy night.

When we skidded to a halt outside the faded vinyl apartment building in Revere, the scene was already a war zone.

Two black sedans were smashed haphazardly against the curb. Shards of glass littered the pavement. On the sidewalk, one of my guards lay motionless in a pool of rainwater, while the heavy wooden basement door had been blasted off its hinges entirely.

“Secure the exits!” I roared, drawing my sig sauer P226 as I leaped out of the vehicle, the cold rain instantly soaking through my clothes.

I didn't wait for backup. I drew my weapon, descended the concrete steps two at a time, and kicked the splintered basement door inward with a thunderous crash.

The dim, flickering light of the single fluorescent bulb illuminated a nightmare.

Two masked gunmen dressed in tactical black were frantically searching the cramped room. One of them had his hand clamped tightly over Claire’s mouth as she struggled fiercely against him, her pregnant belly heaving with panic as she tried to kick and fight her way free.

The second gunman turned sharply toward the doorway, leveling an automatic rifle straight at my chest.

He never got the chance to pull the trigger.

My pistol barked twice in rapid succession. The round caught the gunman square in the shoulder, spinning him violently into the metal shelving unit and sending canned goods and medical supplies crashing to the floor.

The first gunman dropped Claire instantly, instinctively reaching for his sidearm, but before his weapon could clear leather, my second shot took him cleanly through the knee. He collapsed with a blood-curdling scream, clutching his shattered joint against the concrete.

The basement fell deathly quiet, save for the heavy, ragged breathing echoing off the damp walls.

I lowered my pistol, my boots splashing through the shallow puddles of water as I rushed forward.

“Claire!”

She was huddled against the rusted metal bed, her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach, pale as a ghost and shaking uncontrollably.

I dropped to my knees beside her, throwing my weapon aside, and gently gathered her into my arms.

“I’m here,” I choked out, pressing my face into her damp hair as my hands trembled against her back. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. It’s over.”

Claire buried her face in my shoulder, finally breaking down into deep, racking sobs that shook her entire frame. “They... they found me, Roman... they said... they said you sent them...”

“Never,” I whispered fiercely, kissing her forehead. “I would burn this entire city to ash before I ever let anyone touch you or our child.”

Behind us, my men poured into the basement, securing the surviving intruder and sweeping the perimeter. But the war wasn't over. The attack in Revere proved that Dominic Rossi hadn't been acting alone. The rot inside my organization ran deep, and the remaining conspirators were desperate enough to strike at my pregnant wife to protect themselves.