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"We're trapped," Gigi calls out. That girl has nerves of steel. I throw a questioning look at Vito, who holds up two fingers, indicating the time it'll take for Al to get to them.

"Listen to me, Gigi. Your car is bulletproof; lock the doors, and don't let them in. Al is two minutes out."

"We don't have two minutes." She replies in a tense voice.

Okay. I bought that fucking car for her for a reason. The damn thing weighs more than six thousand pounds, it's bulletproof, and it comes with all the bells and whistles needed to protect a foreign dignitary. That thing is basically a fucking tank. I don'tknow who is after them right now, but I do know that they're safer the longer they can stay in the Mercedes. "Alright, listen. The Maybach can take a hit. Don’t fucking hesitate?—"

"Already on it," my sister informs me. The elevator door dings. Finally.

"Then move, Gigi. Now!" I order.

Inside the elevator, Vito and I listen as Gigi fights for her, my wife's, and my child's lives. Metal shrieks. Fuck! Images of what that impact might do to the small life inside Scarlet nearly bring me to my knees. But the fury at whoever is attacking them is far greater, keeping me upright and clearheaded. They messed with the wrong man's family. I'll cut them into pieces and feed them to Marcello's sharks.

"Good," I force myself to breathe calmly even as my free fist hits the wall of the slowest fucking elevator in the world. "Now forward. Take out the one in front of you."

"There are guys—they're getting out—" Scarlet screams.

There's only one choice. "Gigi. Run. Them. Over."

Again, the small elevator cabin is filled with the sound of an impact and metal scraping against metal. But also a pinging sound I know well, even before Scarlet screams, "They're shooting at us."

The elevator doors open, and Vito and I make a run for the waiting helicopter. "Gigi!"

"I see them."

Vito holds up one finger, yelling into his phone.

"Al is one minute out, Gigi, get back to Main Street."

"Go!" I yell at the pilot while shutting the door.

My sister has a good head on her shoulders. Even though she hasn't gone through all the same training as I have, she learned some things, like defensive driving, shooting, and some martial arts, I tell myself. They're going to be okay—all three of them.

"Alright, Main St—" the sound of a crash followed by the screams of the two most precious people in the world to me nearly kills me.

"Where the fuck is Al?" I yell at Vito.

"They took him out. Just like Gigi said, they have fucking bazookas." Vito's face is frozen in fury as he yells to another one of our soldiers to hurry the fuck up.

"Scarlet, Gigi!" I yell into the phone, but all I hear is the loud beeping of a horn. This assures me that their car wasn't taken out with a bazooka, but that assurance rapidly loses effectiveness at the sound of a woman moaning. It's too distorted to make out if it's from Scarlet or Gigi.

"I got her," a male voice shouts, stopping my heart. I look at Vito, who instantly yells into his phone before shaking his head at me. Not our men. Fuck!

"How far are you?" Vito yells. "Hurry the fuck up!"

"Hey, there's another one." A different voice announces.

"Take her too, let the boss decide what to do with her." The first voice replies, indicating they were only after one. Scarlet or Gigi?

"Let the fuck go of me!" Scarlet screams.

"Ouch, fucking bitch." The sound of a slap boils my blood.

"Don’t you dare lay a hand on her!" I yell into the phone.

Vito's eyes widen at me; he makes a slashing motion with his hand over his throat. I get it. He doesn't want to lose the fragile connection we have over the phone, but that's just it. It's too fucking fragile.

"Who the fuck? Hey, stop that, stop." I hear another slap.Give them hell, passerotta.