Genevieve held Chloe trapped on the stone steps

The hydraulic gears of the hidden wall groaned as the stone panel slid open, allowing the blinding afternoon sunlight to spill into the dark staircase. Marcus emerged first, his pistol held discreetly behind his leg, his eyes immediately scanning the sun-drenched pool terrace.

Following closely behind him, Maya stepped out into the fresh air for the first time in half a year. She shielded her eyes against the glare, the oversized ivory linen jacket hanging off her shoulders.

A collective, massive gasp rippled through the cordoned-off guests. Whispers exploded across the lawn like a lit fuse. Maya, the woman they had all been told had betrayed the family, was standing right in front of them, looking like a resurrected ghost.

Julian, who had regained consciousness and was currently sitting on the grass clutching his shattered, bloody face with a towel, stared in absolute horror.

"It's over, Julian," Marcus said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried effortlessly across the silent terrace.

Julian scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his jaw. Panic completely overrode his logic. He looked frantically around the terrace at the men wearing silver tie clips.

"What are you waiting for?!" Julian screamed at the mercenaries, spitting blood onto the manicured grass. "Kill him! He's right there! Kill him now!"

The Chicago mercenaries, realizing their cover was completely blown, immediately reached inside their tailored jackets for their weapons.

But Marcus was already entirely in control.

"Now," Marcus said softly.

The pool terrace erupted into a localized, terrifying warzone. Dante and Marcus's loyal bodyguards had already positioned themselves perfectly during the lockdown. Before the mercenaries could even draw their heavy weapons, Dante's men opened fire with suppressed pistols.

Thwip-thwip-thwip.

The sounds were muffled, clinical, and devastatingly precise. Three mercenaries dropped instantly into the shallow end of the pool, their blood blooming in the water like dark red ink. Two more fell across the catering tables, shattering crystal champagne flutes and sending expensive hors d'oeuvres flying across the stone tiles.

Marcus didn't flinch as the violence exploded around him. He simply placed himself squarely in front of Maya, providing an impenetrable human shield. He raised his own weapon with one hand, his angular face set in a mask of absolute concentration, and fired twice.

A mercenary who had aimed a rifle at Dante from the upper balcony pitched forward, tumbling over the glass railing and crashing violently onto the pool deck.

Within ten seconds, the skirmish was entirely over. Eight mercenaries lay dead or dying on the terrace. The loyal guests screamed and dropped to the ground, covering their heads.

Marcus slowly lowered his weapon. He looked around the carnage, his custom-tailored suit completely unruffled, save for the missing jacket.