The tiny Christmas stocking that revealed the pregnant maid's secret.

A deafening CRACK reverberated through the smoke-filled hallway.

Lena flinched, bracing for the impact, but the pain never came. She heard a sickening thud behind her. Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head.

The Wren assassin lay dead on the marble floor, his assault rifle clattering uselessly beside him. A single, precise bullet hole marked the center of his forehead.

Through the thick, swirling smoke at the end of the corridor, a towering figure emerged.

Harrison Vale stepped over the body, his face a terrifying mask of absolute, unadulterated violence. His dark turtleneck was torn and stained with blood—none of it his own. His swept-back hair was wild, and his dark eyes burned with a feral, predatory fire. He held a heavy pistol in his tattooed hand, smoke still curling lazily from the barrel.

"Harrison!" Lena sobbed, the adrenaline finally crashing out of her system.

Harrison dropped the gun and sprinted across the hallway. He slid to his knees on the marble floor, pulling Lena and Archie into a desperate, crushing embrace. He buried his face in Lena’s neck, his broad shoulders shaking as he breathed in the scent of her survival.

"I've got you," Harrison rasped, his voice raw with emotion. "You're safe. I've got you."

"Daddy!" Archie cried, clinging to his father's neck, his rosy cheeks stained with dust and tears. "The bad man tried to find us in the dark!"

Harrison pulled back slightly, looking at his son's terrified face, and then down at Lena. She was covered in dust, her fair skin scratched from the crawlspace, but her hand was still resting protectively over her five-month bump. The realization of how close he had come to losing his entire world shattered the last remnants of his restraint.

"Are you hurt? Did he touch you?" Harrison demanded, his hands frantically checking her for injuries.

"No, we're okay. We hid in the walls," Lena wept, leaning heavily against his chest. "You came back."

"I told you I would," he whispered fiercely, pressing a hard, lingering kiss to her forehead.

Marco appeared from the stairwell, his assault rifle raised, his face smeared with soot. "Boss! The main floor is secure. We pushed the Wren mercenaries back out the front gates. They're retreating."

Harrison slowly stood up, helping Lena to her feet and scooping Archie into his arms. The relief that had washed over him a moment ago was instantly replaced by a cold, calculating fury. He looked down at the dead assassin on his floor. The Wrens had breached his home. They had hunted his pregnant wife and his toddler son through the halls.

A defensive posture was no longer an option.

"Marco," Harrison said, his voice dropping to a lethal, icy timber that made the seasoned capo stand at attention. "Gather every man we have. Empty the armories."

"Boss? We just repelled a massive strike. The men are exhausted," Marco cautioned gently.

"I don't care," Harrison snarled, his dark eyes fixed on the smoke drifting through his ruined home. "Arthur Wren brought war to my front door. He targeted my family. Tell the lieutenants to gear up. We aren't waiting for them to strike again."

Lena looked up at him, her clear eyes wide with fearful understanding. "Harrison... what are you going to do?"