“More boots are en route to us now,” Alessandro called out.

I flipped my night vision back in place. “This was a trap for you,” I told him. “She’s not here.” Hell, she could be in on this. Not that I’d devastate him with that possibility.

“I have to be sure. I can’t lose her,” he pleaded, still not moving.

“I’ll find her,” I promised, gripping his arm to guide him out. “But I have to get you out of here now.”

He finally moved, but the moment we stepped into the alley, gunfire erupted.

I shoved Colin back into the container, shielding him with my body as I scanned for the new sniper.

“Clear,” Hudson snapped over comms. “You’ve got more incoming.”

The SUVs. I swapped my Glock for my rifle, and my brothers lined up beside me, blocking the entrance to the container.

The SEALs slipped back into the shadows, preparing for the next wave.

I held steady, even as a wildfire coursed through my veins with my son trapped behind us in the middle of a war.

Just before I was about to shoot, someone yelled out, “We’re friendlies!”

I hesitated, not ready to believe anything from a voice I didn’t recognize.

“Giuseppe Messina sent us.” He repeated his words in Italian.

“What are we doing?” Alessandro asked me.

I scanned the alley, the shadows shifting as movement cut between stacked containers. “Hold your fire until we get a better look.”

A man stepped forward, hands raised.

“It’s me, Tommaso,” he said, his voice tense. “Don’t fire. We were sent to help get you out of here.” He came closer. “And Giuseppe said to tell you, consider the debt he owes your family paid in return for our assistance.”

Debt, what debt? I didn’t have time to process or question it before another barrage of gunfire erupted. Not from Tommaso’s men, though.

“Are we doing this?” Alessandro rasped, popping off a round. “Fighting alongside the mafia?”

I glanced back at Colin to ensure he was still safe. I swung back around just in time to squeeze the trigger, nailing a hostile in the shoulder.

The bastard lurched from the shadows, clawing at his wound.

Where’d he come from? We really are in the alley of Hell.

“Yeah,” I huffed out, “I guess we are.”

45. Juliette

Chapter 45

Juliette

He’s not here. He’s not back. He’s . . . “Where is he?”

That dark expression passing over my son’s face as his lower lip quivered sent me forward, and I pulled him back into the safety of my arms. I’d only just let him go from my death-grip hug.

“I’m sorry.” Colin held on to me, and I turned my cheek, smashing it against his chest, listening to the harsh thwacks of his rapidly beating heart. “Dad’s not back because of me. It’s my fault.”