A Cleaner Was the Only Person Who Could Calm My Dying Guard Dog—Then We Found a Hidden Room Filled With Surveillance of Her.

The old don’s voice floated down the stone stairs like dust motes in a tomb.

"Carmine," Jared whispered, his fingers tightening around the edge of the police dossier until the paper tore.

Willa clicked off her flashlight, plunging them into the soft, dim glow spilling from the open trapdoor above. "He followed us. How could he follow us?"

"He didn't follow us," Jared said, the terrible, sickening realization washing over his face. "Julian didn't send that message through the gavel phone. Carmine did."

"What?" Willa gasped.

"The synthetic voice modulator on the burner phone last night," Jared said, his voice a low growl of pure fury. "Carmine staged the call. He used Julian’s voice from old wiretap recordings to send me here. He wanted me to dig up this file so he could bury it—and us—together."

"Jared!" Carmine called out again, the sound of his silver-tipped cane tapping rhythmically against the floorboards above. "Don't make this untidy. The girl doesn't have to suffer. Bring the box up."

Jared looked at Willa. He reached out, his hand gripping the back of her neck, pulling her forehead gently against his.

"Listen to me," Jared whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. "There is an old drainage culvert behind the wine racks. It leads to the ravine behind the lodge. You take Brutus. You take this dossier. You run down the mountain toward the state road."

"I am not leaving you!" Willa whispered fiercely, her hazel eyes blazing in the dark. "We fought through Wall Street together! We take him together!"

"Willa, Carmine didn't bring capos," Jared said, his dark eyes burning into hers. "He brought the Commission's internal cleaners. Six men with submachine guns. If I go up those stairs shooting, I can give you three minutes. That's all you get."

"No," Willa said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. She pointed her flashlight toward the heavy wooden ceiling beams above them.

Running along the center joists were four heavy, galvanized steel gas pipes connecting the old commercial propane tanks outside to the lodge’s industrial heaters.

"The propane line," Willa said. "The shut-off valve is right there by the stairs."

Jared looked at the valve, then back at Willa. A grim, dangerous light ignited in his eyes. "You want to blow up my grandfather's lodge?"

"I want to survive," Willa said.

Jared didn't hesitate. He pulled his tactical knife, shoved the heavy blade into the brass pressure regulator above the valve, and wrenched it with his full body weight.

The brass fitting cracked.

High-pressure liquid propane hissed violently into the cold basement air, instantly smelling of heavy sulfur and rotten eggs.

"Run," Jared commanded.

They sprinted toward the rear of the cellar. Jared threw his shoulder against an old wooden panel behind the wine racks, revealing the narrow stone culvert that drained mountain runoff into the gorge.

Brutus squeezed through first. Willa scrambled after him, clutching the yellowed dossier inside her coat.

Jared stood at the entrance of the culvert. He pulled a road flare from his tactical kit, popped the striker, and held the hissing red flame in his hand.

Above them, the trapdoor flew open.

A tactical beam illuminated the cellar stairs. Two masked gunmen descended, weapons raised.

"Kensington!" one shouted.

Jared hurled the burning flare into the center of the propane cloud and dove headfirst into the stone culvert.

The explosion tore through the basement with the force of an artillery shell.

A concussive wave of heat and roaring orange flame blasted through the foundations, blowing the lodge’s great room floor upward into kindling and shattering the hemlock log walls.

The shockwave slammed Jared through the culvert, tumbling him violently into the cold mud and wet leaves of the ravine.

Willa was already there, grabbing his collar, hauling him to his feet as burning debris and splintered timber rained down from the night sky.

Above them, on the ridge, the hunting lodge had collapsed into an inferno of roaring orange flames and black smoke.

Two black luxury SUVs were parked near the edge of the clearing, their windshields cracked by the blast.

Standing beside the lead vehicle, sheltered by two bodyguards holding ballistic shields, was Carmine Lucchese.

The old don wasn't looking at the fire.

He was staring directly down into the ravine where Jared and Willa stood in the moonlight.

Carmine’s face was unreadable. He didn't order his men to fire. He didn't shout.

He simply raised his gloved hand, tapped his silver-tipped cane once against the gravel, and stepped into the back of his armored car.

The SUVs turned and accelerated down the mountain trail, their taillights disappearing into the dark pines.

Willa stood shivering in the freezing wind, soot smudged across her cheek, her chest heaving as she held the dossier tight against her ribs.

"He let us go," Willa whispered, confused and breathless. "Why did he let us go?"

Jared stood beside her, his suit torn, blood trickling from a cut above his brow, staring at the burning ruins of his family's history.

"He didn't let us go," Jared said, his voice cold as the mountain ice. "He got what he came for."

Willa looked down at the aluminum box in Jared’s hand.

The box was empty.

During the explosion, the black-and-white photograph—the only visual proof linking Carmine Lucchese and Judge Sterling to the murder of Jared’s mother—had been lost in the fire.

All they had left was the yellowed autopsy report.

"It doesn't matter," Willa said, her voice hardening with an absolute, terrifying resolve that matched Jared’s own. "We know the truth now."

Jared turned to look at her. The firelight reflected in her fierce, unyielding eyes.

"Yes," Jared said softly, reaching out to wipe the soot from her cheek with his thumb. "We know who killed my mother. And we know who destroyed your life."

He whistled low. Brutus trotted up, uninjured, leaning his heavy silver flank against Willa’s leg.

"What do we do now?" Willa asked.