Serena Montesi crashed heavily onto the carpet, crying out in shock as she immediately curled one arm protectively around her unborn

Alaric gently placed Serena’s hand back on the crisp white sheets. He stood up slowly, the comforting father instantly vanishing, replaced once again by the ruthless, intimidating mafia boss. He gave Serena a reassuring nod before walking across the sterile room to join Dominic near the heavy steel doors, keeping his voice to a hushed, dangerous whisper.

"I told you he would try to run," Alaric said, his eyes narrowing. "Where is he?"

Dominic handed over the encrypted tablet. The bright, high-definition screen displayed a live feed from the security cameras at the main gate of the Montesi compound.

"He tried to go to the airstrip, Boss, but our men had it locked down," Dominic explained, his American accent tight with tension. "He panicked. He knows he can't leave the city, and he knows no one will hide him. So, he made a desperate play."

Alaric looked at the screen. The vivid colors of the security feed showed two black SUVs parked haphazardly blocking the massive iron gates of the estate. Standing in the glare of the headlights was Bastian. He looked deranged. His tailored suit was unbuttoned, his tie gone, and he was holding a heavy, black assault rifle. Behind him stood five heavily armed men—the last of his loyal, bought-and-paid-for mercenaries who hadn't realized their employer was entirely bankrupt.

"He came here?" Alaric asked, a dark, humorless chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. "He is attempting to breach my home?"

"He's screaming about his rights, Boss," Dominic said. "He says he wants his wife and his 'rightful share' of the syndicate's wealth, or he’s going to start shooting at the compound. He's completely unhinged. The mother, Bianca, is in the passenger seat of the lead SUV."

"And the pregnant girl?"

"Faye is not with them," Dominic confirmed. "Intel says Bastian dumped her at a bus station on the edge of town when he realized she was dead weight in a firefight."

Alaric handed the tablet back. He adjusted his cufflinks, his fair, rosy skin bathed in the harsh white light of the medical wing. The absolute audacity of Bastian Coletti coming to the gates of the king he had betrayed was almost poetic in its stupidity.

Suddenly, a sharp, agonizing gasp came from the hospital bed.

Alaric spun around. Serena was gripping the metal bedrails, her knuckles stark white. Her body arched slightly off the mattress, her face contorted in sheer, overwhelming agony. The fetal heart monitor began to beep faster, a frantic, warning rhythm.

"Serena!" Alaric yelled, rushing to her side.

The door burst open, and the doctor sprinted back into the room, flanked by two nurses. "The stress spiked her blood pressure again!" the doctor shouted, quickly checking the monitors. "The sedative isn't holding! Her water just broke. She is going into active labor right now, Mr. Montesi. We have to prepare for an emergency delivery!"

Alaric looked down at his daughter, watching her struggle through a massive, premature contraction. The legacy of his empire was fighting to enter the world, while the traitor who caused it was pounding on his front door.

"Do your job, Doctor. Save them both," Alaric commanded, his voice vibrating with absolute, terrifying authority.