Alessandra swiftly sliced the fabric from his tiny wrists and pulled him protectively against her chest as he struggled for each breath

The absolute, breathtaking callousness of Alessandra's command paralyzed Julian for a fraction of a second. He stared at the terrifying Mafia Boss, his arrogant smirk faltering as he realized he had fundamentally miscalculated her leverage.

Francesca shrieked through the tape, thrashing wildly against the zip-ties binding her to the couch. Vincent bowed his head, closing his eyes in total, broken defeat, while Bianca sobbed uncontrollably.

"You think I'm bluffing?" Julian growled, pressing the barrel of the silver pistol harder against Francesca's temple. "I will blow her brains out, Alessandra!"

"I don't care if you do," Alessandra replied softly, her American accent crisp and lethal. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her dark eyes completely empty of any familial warmth or pity. "You brought me all the way to Montana to threaten me with the lives of people I despise. My mother allowed my son to be tortured. My sister beat me. And my father did nothing. They are already dead to me."

Julian's hand trembled slightly. The psychological warfare he had planned was crumbling against the impenetrable wall of Alessandra's ruthlessness. He had expected a panicked, desperate woman willing to trade an empire for her parents' lives. Instead, he was facing a predator who was more than willing to watch them die.

"If you don't sign the contracts, I'll kill them, and then I'll detonate the house, killing you and your men!" Julian shouted, his composure shattering.

"If you detonate the house, you die too, Julian," Alessandra pointed out smoothly. "And if you shoot my mother, you lose your only hostage. You have absolutely no leverage."

In the split second that Julian hesitated, processing the catastrophic failure of his plan, Alessandra moved.

She didn't reach for a gun. She reached for the small, razor-sharp tactical blade strapped to her thigh—the exact same blade she had used to cut Caleb free from the dining chair. With a blinding, fluid motion born of brutal training, Alessandra hurled the blade across the room.

The steel flashed in the tactical lights. The blade buried itself deep into the back of Julian's gun hand, severing tendons and pinning his hand against the wall behind him. Julian screamed in agony, dropping the silver pistol to the floor.