Little Mila Ferrante was pinned tightly against a low padded garage

"Nico, please!" Gavin dropped to his knees on the concrete, clasping his hands together in pathetic supplication. "Think of Mila! I'm her father! You can't take her father away from her!"

Nico looked down at the whimpering man, his expression completely blank. He reached into his inner pocket, pulled out the severed side braid, and let the tips of the dark hair brush across Gavin’s bloody cheek.

"You stopped being her father," Nico whispered, "the moment you let your sister bring shears to her scalp."

Nico turned to the two remaining bodyguards standing by the elevator.

"Leo. Marco," Nico said without looking back.

"Yes, Don Ferrante."

"Take them to the sub-level wine cellar," Nico commanded, his pauses deliberate, heavy as lead. "Strip their phones, their jewelry, and their shoes. Zip-tie their wrists to the support pillars. If any of them speaks a single word before I return, cut their tongues out."

"No! Nico, you can't do this!" Marjorie screamed, clawing at the guard's arm as Leo grabbed her by the shoulder. "I am Marjorie Cole! Our family has political connections in Washington! You will be arrested for kidnapping!"

Marco didn't even answer. He drove a heavy gloved fist into Gavin's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of the younger man with a wet gasp, before hauling him upright like a sack of grain.

Within two minutes, the garage was empty of enemies.

Nico stood alone among the spilled detailing bottles and scattered tires, holding little Mila against his heart. He reached into his trouser pocket, retrieved a clean linen handkerchief, and gently wiped the dried tears and dust from the toddler’s fair cheeks.

"Are you hungry, little bird?" Nico asked softly, his baritone transforming into warm, protective velvet.

Mila sniffled, wrapping her small fingers around his gold signet ring. "I want Mommy, Grandpa. Is the baby coming?"

"Yes, sweetheart," Nico smiled faintly, his handsome, bearded face softening with profound paternal love. "Your brother is coming. Let's go welcome him."

He carried her into the elevator, pressing the button for the third-floor medical wing. As the steel doors closed, cutting off the scent of motor oil and blood, Nico’s phone vibrated in his jacket.

He answered on speaker. "Report, Cassian."

"The doctor is scrubbing in, Boss," Cassian’s voice crackled through the secure line. "Sienna's water just broke. Placental abruption is suspected due to the blunt-force trauma to her abdomen. Bennett says we have less than twenty minutes to perform the C-section, or we lose both of them."