Elena Vitiello POV:

The whistles from the crowd grew louder, echoing off the metal bulkheads of the yacht. Several drunk gang bosses stepped closer, their eyes raking over my wet, clinging dress with undisguised, filthy hunger.

I clenched my fists at my sides. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that the skin broke. I forced my spine to stay perfectly straight, refusing to cross my arms or show a single ounce of panic.

On the floor, Sofia was putting on the performance of a lifetime. She clutched her ankle, sobbing hysterically. Her tears ruined her makeup, making her look like a terrified victim who had just accidentally spilled a drink.

A loud, angry roar came from the spiral staircase.

Luca and Matteo burst onto the second deck, shoving two men out of the way. Luca's chest was heaving, his eyes scanning the crowd wildly.

He saw me standing there, soaked in wine, the white silk completely transparent against my skin. Then he saw Sofia sobbing on the wooden deck.

Luca didn't hesitate. He ripped off his heavy black suit jacket and sprinted forward.

For one fraction of a second, as he ran toward me, a tiny, pathetic sliver of hope flared in my chest. I thought, after ten years of loyalty, he had finally woken up. I thought he was bringing the jacket to cover me, to protect my dignity from the staring men.

He didn't even slow down.

Luca ran right past me. The wind from his movement chilled the wet silk on my skin. He dropped to his knees beside Sofia.

He wrapped his thick black jacket tightly around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. "Are you okay? Did you twist it badly?" he asked, his voice trembling with frantic concern.

Matteo ran up right behind him. He crouched next to Sofia and shot me a vicious glare, as if I was the one who had pushed her to the ground.

I stood completely alone in the freezing lake wind. The wet fabric felt like ice against my ribs. Something inside my chest didn't just break; it shattered into dust.

That tiny sliver of hope died completely, turning into endless, cold ash. The last invisible string connecting me to Luca snapped.

The laughter around me suddenly died down. The men stopped whistling. They physically took a step back.

I didn't realize it, but the aura radiating from my body had turned completely lethal. I slowly turned my head, sweeping my eyes over the crowd like a queen inspecting a line of corpses. Every man who met my gaze instantly looked down at the floor, terrified by the pure, freezing death in my eyes.

Sofia rested her head against Luca's shoulder. She looked past his neck, locking eyes with me. A smug, victorious smile curled her lips.

Luca turned his head and looked up at me. His brow furrowed in judgment. "Why do you have to be so mean to her? It was an accident!"

I didn't answer him. Words were a waste of breath on a dead man.

I turned on my heel and walked away, heading straight for the metal stairs that led up to the isolated top deck.

Just as my foot hit the first step, the yacht's PA system crackled to life.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our July 4th special fireworks display will begin in two minutes!"

The deck instantly buzzed with excitement. Staff members in white uniforms hurried through the crowd, passing out small, handheld sparklers to the guests.

Sofia's eyes darted around the deck. She pushed herself out of Luca's arms and pointed at a metal utility cart parked near the railing. Resting on top was a massive, industrial-grade Roman candle, as thick as a man's arm.

"Luca," Sofia said, her voice trembling with fake innocence. "I'm so scared. I want to light that big firework to calm my nerves. Can I?"

Luca nodded immediately, desperate to soothe her. He walked over to the cart and picked up the heavy cardboard tube.

A staff member rushed forward, holding his hands up. "Sir, please! That's professional gear! The recoil is massive!"

Luca shoved the man hard in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. "Back off."

Luca carried the heavy tube back to Sofia. He handed it to her, then pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it open, lighting the thick green fuse himself.

The fuse hissed violently, spitting bright orange sparks.

Sofia gripped the heavy tube with both hands. The second the fuse burned down to the base, the fake innocence vanished from her face. Her eyes turned completely black with malice.

She spun around on her heel, raised the heavy barrel, and aimed it directly at the middle of the stairs where I was walking.

Luca and Matteo stood right next to her. They just watched, their brains completely failing to process that she was holding a weapon.

The first heavy firework shell shot out of the tube with a deafening, piercing screech, lighting the entire night sky on fire.

Sofia's face twisted in the firelight like a demon. She screamed, "Go to hell, you high and mighty princess!"

Elena Vitiello POV:

The massive firework shell tore through the air, leaving a blinding trail of extreme heat.

It flew straight at my head. I threw my body sideways. The burning sphere of chemicals grazed my cheek, the intense heat singeing the fine hairs on my skin.

It slammed into the metal railing right next to me with a deafening boom. The thick steel dented inward. A shower of burning sparks rained down over the stairs.

The crowd on the deck below erupted into screams of absolute terror.

My pupils shrank. My survival instinct took over. I tried to scramble backward up the stairs, but my stiletto heel slipped into the gap between the metal grates and jammed tight. I was pinned.

Down on the deck, Sofia stumbled backward, pretending the massive recoil of the tube was throwing her off balance. But her hands never let go of the barrel. She gripped it tighter, her muscles locking as she readjusted her aim.

The second shell shot out with a horrific roar.

It was aimed dead center at my chest. I violently twisted my torso to the right, ripping my shoe from my foot.

The flaming shell missed my heart, but it slammed brutally into my left shoulder.

The impact was like being hit by a speeding truck. I heard the sickening crack of my own bone. The kinetic force lifted me off my feet and threw me backward onto the hard metal stairs. Pain exploded through my nervous system, blinding me with white light.

But the physical impact wasn't the worst part.

The shower of high-temperature sparks settled onto my white silk dress. The fabric was completely soaked in high-proof Burgundy wine. Alcohol.

With a terrifying *whoosh*, the left side of my chest and shoulder erupted into a massive fireball.

"Ah!" I screamed, the agony tearing out of my throat. I thrashed wildly on the metal stairs, slapping at my burning shoulder, trying to smother the flames.

Down on the deck, Luca and Matteo froze in shock. The scene was pure chaos.

Luca finally moved. But his first reaction wasn't to run up the stairs to save the woman burning alive. He spun around and grabbed Sofia, who had dropped the smoking tube and fallen backward.

Luca frantically checked her arms. "Are you hurt from the recoil?!" he yelled over the screaming crowd.

Through the roaring orange flames, my eyes locked onto Luca holding her. The searing agony of my flesh burning and the final, absolute severing of my soul happened in the exact same fraction of a second.

The fire chewed into my skin. The sickening, sweet smell of burning protein filled my nose.

Two men in dark suits broke out of the panicked crowd. They were Dante's New York shadows. They ripped off their heavy, custom-tailored jackets and threw themselves up the stairs.

They slammed the heavy fabric over my burning shoulder, pressing down hard to starve the fire of oxygen. But the alcohol had soaked deep into the silk. The flames were too fierce, licking around the edges of the jackets.

The pain was melting my brain. I was seconds away from losing consciousness. I knew if I passed out here, I would burn to death.

I bit down on my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. The pain gave me one final surge of adrenaline.

I shoved the two shadows away with my good arm. I dragged myself to the edge of the stairs. Wrapped in flames, I pushed off the metal railing and threw my body over the side of the yacht.

I fell through the dark air like a dying meteor.

I hit the freezing black surface of Lake Michigan with a massive splash.

The icy water instantly swallowed the fire. The extreme temperature change hit my burned skin like a million microscopic needles tearing into my nerves. My lungs seized. The agony was so absolute I couldn't even scream underwater.

I opened my eyes. The dark water stung. Above me, the lights of the yacht looked warped and distant.

Up on the deck, the sound of the splash finally snapped Luca's brain into reality. He shoved Sofia away, his eyes wide with horror, and sprinted to the railing.

He stared down at the black water. "Elena!" Luca roared. It was the desperate, guttural sound of a dying animal.

He put his hands on the railing, preparing to vault over and dive in.

The lead New York shadow stepped up behind him and delivered a brutal, crushing punch to the side of Luca's jaw. Luca's head snapped back, and he crumpled to the deck, unconscious.

The shadow didn't pause. He dove over the railing, plunging into the dark water after me.

Behind the chaos, Sofia stood up slowly. She looked over the edge, a wicked, satisfied sneer curling her lips. Then, she let her eyes roll back and collapsed to the floor, faking a dead faint.

I felt my body sinking deeper into the freezing abyss. My vision went black. The last thing that flashed through my fading mind was the low, magnetic voice from the satellite phone.

The pain swallowed me entirely.

Then, out of the darkness, a steady, rhythmic sound slowly pierced my ears. *Beep... beep... beep...*

The sharp, chemical stench of medical disinfectant burned my nose.

The sound of the heart monitor stabilized. Elena's dry, cracked lips trembled slightly as she let out a hoarse whisper: "Don't... touch me."

Elena Vitiello POV:

I slowly forced my heavy eyelids open. A blinding, sterile white light stabbed at my pupils, making me instinctively turn my head to the right.

The movement sent a shockwave of agony through my left shoulder. It felt as if a wild animal had clamped its jaws down on my flesh and violently ripped it away. I looked down. Thick, pristine white surgical gauze wrapped tightly around my entire left shoulder and chest, secured with medical tape.

A tall figure stepped into my line of sight, blocking the harsh surgical lamp. It was the lead New York shadow.

He bowed his head slightly. "Miss, you are safe," he reported in low, rapid Italian.

I blinked against the dryness in my eyes. My throat felt like it was filled with broken glass. I swallowed hard, forcing the words out.

"Where is that woman?" my voice was a raspy, broken whisper.

The shadow's face darkened. His jaw tightened in anger. "In the chaos on the deck, Luca provided cover for Sofia. He took her away before we could secure her."

I heard the words, but I didn't feel a spike of rage. I didn't yell. I just stared up at the ceiling, feeling a freezing cold smirk slowly pull at the corners of my dry lips. Luca was still protecting the person who tried to murder me.

Loud, aggressive shouting suddenly echoed from the hallway outside my private room.

"Let me in! I need to see her!" It was Luca's voice, cracking with desperation.

I closed my eyes. The sound of his voice made my stomach turn. "Tell him to get lost," I whispered to the shadow.

Before the shadow could move, a heavy thud shook the wall. Luca threw his entire body weight against the heavy wooden door, crashing through the physical blockade of the outside guards.

He stumbled into the room. His clothes were soaking wet, clinging to his shivering body. His eyes were completely bloodshot, his face pale and sunken. He looked exactly like a beaten, starving stray dog.

The New York shadow moved faster than a striking snake. He drew his heavy pistol and pressed the black muzzle directly against the back of Luca's head.

Matteo scurried into the room right behind him. When he saw the gun, he dropped flat onto his knees, shaking violently. In his trembling hands, he held a small, bright pink envelope.

Luca ignored the cold steel pressed against his skull. He stared at me, his red eyes filling with tears. He reached his hand out, trying to grab my uninjured right hand resting on the bedsheets.

I violently yanked my hand back. The sudden movement sent a spike of fire through my burns, but I didn't care. I looked at him as if he were a rotting corpse.

"I'm sorry," Luca choked out, his voice trembling. "I'm so sorry, Elena. I didn't know the firework would lose control..."

I stared dead into his eyes, pronouncing every single word with absolute, freezing clarity. "Are you making excuses for her, or trying to redeem yourself?"

Luca's mouth opened and closed, but he had no answer.

Matteo shuffled forward on his knees. He held up the pink envelope like a shield. "Elena, please... this is an apology letter from Sofia. She's terrified. She's been crying non-stop, swearing she didn't mean to."

I looked at the pink envelope. The sight of it made bile rise in my throat. It was a piece of toxic, rotting garbage wrapped in a pretty color.

I didn't reach for it. I didn't say a word. I just shifted my eyes to the New York shadow and gave a single, slow nod.

The shadow snatched the envelope out of Matteo's hand. He didn't open it. He gripped it with both hands and violently tore it in half, then into quarters, shredding it into tiny pieces. He threw the confetti right into Luca's face.

The pink paper fluttered down like snow, landing on Luca's stubbled cheeks and wet shoulders. Luca squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisting in ultimate humiliation.

"From the moment you handed her that firework," I declared, my voice as cold as the lake water, "you are no longer my guards. You are my enemies."

Luca's eyes snapped open. He broke down completely. "We grew up together! Ten years, Elena! Are you really going to destroy all this over an accident?!"

I raised my right hand and pointed directly at my thick, blood-spotted bandages. I let out a dark, hollow sneer. "An accident?"

Before Luca could open his mouth to argue, heavy, synchronized footsteps thundered down the hospital corridor. The sound carried pure, murderous intent.

The wooden door to my room was kicked open with such explosive force that the heavy brass handle punched a hole straight into the drywall.

My father, the Underboss of Chicago, marched into the room. He was flanked by a dozen fully armed, high-ranking cartel enforcers.

His face was livid, flushed dark red with rage. He walked to the foot of my bed and looked at my heavily bandaged shoulder. His eyes didn't hold a father's concern; they held the furious calculation of a man who just realized his most valuable political asset was damaged.

My father slowly turned his head. His eyes locked onto Luca and Matteo. The temperature in the room plummeted. He looked at them the way a butcher looks at meat.

My father pulled the gold-plated Desert Eagle from his waist. The crisp sound of a bullet being chambered echoed in the ward. "Who gave you the nerve to cover for that bitch's escape?"