The 5-Year-Old Who Saved the Mafia King: The Secret Behind the Poisoned Glass!

Gunfire erupted across the warehouse in a deafening crescendo. Salvatore shrieked in sheer terror, diving behind a barricade of reinforced shipping containers as his surviving mercenaries opened fire on Roman’s vanguard. Bullets sparked against steel beams, splintering wooden crates and sending clouds of white powdered cargo exploding into the air.

Roman moved with the lethal, methodical grace of a wartime general. He fired his shotgun in rapid, rhythmic blasts, dropping two charging gunmen before they could bring their rifles to bear. Behind him, Dante and a dozen veteran Viscari enforcers advanced in a tight diamond formation, laying down suppressive fire that pinned the traitors into the corners of the warehouse.

""Cover the girl’s mother!"" Roman roared over the din of battle, gesturing toward the center of the floor where Evelyn sat trapped in the crossfire.

A rogue mercenary broke from cover, raising his weapon point-blank at Evelyn to eliminate the key witness. Roman didn't hesitate; he hurled his empty shotgun straight into the man’s face, closing the twenty-foot distance in the blink of an eye. Before the mercenary could recover, Roman drew his trench knife, driving it through the man’s tactical vest, dropping him instantly to the floor.

Roman slid to his knees beside Evelyn, his knife swiftly cutting the coarse ropes binding her wrists and ankles.

Evelyn slumped forward into Roman’s chest, gasping for air. She looked up into his fierce, unyielding eyes, her vision swimming through tears of exhaustion and relief. ""Roman... Clara... is she...""

""She is safe,"" Roman said, his voice dropping into a gentle cadence that completely contradicted the violence raging around them. ""She is with two of my most trusted guards in the armored transport outside. She saved my life at the cathedral, Evelyn. She is the bravest girl in Chicago.""

Tears spilled freely down Evelyn’s bruised cheeks. ""Thank God... oh God, thank you...""

""Dante! Get her to the transport immediately!"" Roman ordered, hoisting Evelyn up and handing her to his security chief, who had advanced through the clearing smoke.

""What about Salvatore, Boss?"" Dante yelled over the sporadic pistol cracks echoing from the rear of the facility. ""He’s making a run for the private speedboat moored at the deepwater slip!""

Roman turned his gaze toward the open bay doors at the rear of the warehouse, where the dense lake fog swallowed the outline of the harbor slipway. A solitary figure in a torn silk suit was sprinting desperately toward the sound of idling twin marine engines.