The Maid Was Crying in the Mafia Boss’s Kitchen—Then He Locked the Door and Asked, “Who Hurt You?”

"If you harm a single hair on her head, Salvatore," Vincent replied softly through the phone, "there is no corner of this earth where you will be safe from me."

The line went dead.

Salvatore snapped the phone shut and turned to his men. "Set up defensive perimeters around the main bay. If anyone approaches without a white flag, kill them instantly."

Twenty minutes passed in agonizing silence. Fay strained against the thick ropes securing her wrists, her mind praying frantically that Vincent wouldn't walk into what was obviously a fatal trap.

Suddenly, the heavy metal roof above them echoed with a series of sharp, muffled thuds.

The lights in the concrete basement flickered wildly and died, plunging the room into absolute darkness.

Panic erupted among Salvatore's guards. "What happened to the generator?!"

Before anyone could answer, a tactical flashbang grenade shattered through the high cellar window, detonating with a blinding white light and a deafening roar.

BANG!

Screams echoed through the dark room. Gunfire broke out frantically, flashing like chaotic lightning strikes in the blackness. Men fell to the concrete floor with heavy thuds.

Fay ducked her head down, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.

Through the smoke and chaotic gunfire, a tall, shadowy figure moved with terrifying speed and lethal precision. Every sharp muzzle flash revealed Vincent Cross—moving like a specter of death, dropping Salvatore's guards one by one before they could even aim their weapons.