“This ends tonight, Alessia,” he said.

“I promised you a clean slate.”

We pulled up to a gravel lot a block away from the warehouse.

Two other dark sedans were already parked there, their headlights off.

Dante’s men stood in the shadows, their coats slick with rain.

“Stay in the car,” Dante told me.

“The doors are locked, and Leo is with you.”

He nodded to the driver, who checked his side mirror and kept his hand near his holster.

Dante stepped out into the downpour, pulling his collar up.

Through the rain-streaked window, I watched him walk toward the warehouse.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

On the dashboard screen, the live feed showed Marcus and Evelyn arguing.

Evelyn pointed toward the main road, her face twisted in anger.

Suddenly, headlights flooded the warehouse yard.

Three unmarked police cruisers tore into the lot, sirens silent but lightbars flashing red and blue.

Marcus spun around, his boots slipping on the wet concrete.

He tried to run toward the SUV, but two officers tackled him to the ground.

His face slammed into a puddle.