“He thinks he is untouchable,” Adrian said. “We are going in now.”

On the screen, Salvatore continued to boast about his operations.

“The shipment at the docks is already cleared,” Salvatore said.

“The city belongs to us, Isabella,” Salvatore added.

“You are an old man living in a fantasy,” Isabella said, her voice dripping with contempt.

“Perhaps,” Salvatore replied. “But I am an old man who survived.”

Suddenly, a muffled boom vibrated through the concrete floor beneath my feet.

The lights in our secure room flickered, then dimmed to a dull red emergency glow.

On the video feed, the red dot on my children’s cot wavered and then vanished.

“What was that?” Richard Hart asked, his smile vanishing as he looked off-camera.

A loud crash echoed from the speaker of the live feed.

“We have a breach at the southern gate,” a panic-stricken voice shouted in the background of Salvatore’s feed.

“Get the children out,” Adrian’s voice crackled through Isabella’s radio.

“We are moving,” Isabella replied.

She drew a black pistol from her holster with a sharp click.

“Marcus, take the rear,” Isabella ordered. “Maya, stay between us.”