“Drop your guns,” Silvio ordered Leo’s men.

“You’re outnumbered and out of options.”

Leo’s face twisted into a mask of pure rage.

His eyes darted around the room, realizing he had lost the captains.

But he still had his gun, and his finger was on the trigger.

“I’ll take you all down with me,” Leo whispered.

I looked past Leo, toward the massive stone fireplace on the far wall.

The logs inside were cold and black, untouched by fire for months.

My mind raced back to my mother’s leather-bound journal.

I had spent nights reading those pages under the dim light of my bedroom in the North End.

She had drawn a map of this very study.

There was a passage behind the heavy brick hearth.

She had written about a hidden latch on the left side of the fireplace mantel.

A loose brick that could be pushed inward to release the iron door.

I looked at the brickwork, trying to spot the seam in the dark.

The babies were getting heavier in my arms, their breathing shallow and warm against my chest.