We scrambled inside, settling onto the metal floorboards among stacks of folded canvas blankets.

The driver immediately put the van in gear and pulled out of the alley without turning on the headlights.

I held Noah and Oliver close to my ribs, while Adrian pulled Lena onto his lap.

“Is it over?” I asked, looking at Isabella’s pale face in the dim cabin light.

“For Salvatore, it is,” Isabella said.

She pulled a small tablet from her coat pocket and turned the screen toward us.

The screen displayed a live broadcast from a local news station.

Dozens of black SUVs with federal plates blocked the entrance to the Vale estate.

Agents in tactical gear were escorting hand-cuffed men down the wide stone steps of the mansion.

“The broadcast you sent went directly to the federal prosecutor’s office and every major network,” Adrian said.

His voice was quiet, but there was a distinct lack of tension in his shoulders for the first time in years.

“They had no choice but to act immediately,” Adrian added.

I watched the screen as a camera zoomed in on the front doors of the grand house.