A Little Girl Made Me Laugh by Pretending to Be a Mafia Boss—Then One Silver Lighter Wiped the Smile From My Face.

The word hung in the air like a live grenade. Uncle.

Adrian stood perfectly still, his muscular frame rigid, his dark eyes locked onto Emma. The silence in the war room was so absolute that Emma could hear the ticking of Adrian’s luxury wristwatch.

"Are you certain?" Adrian asked, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly quiet register. "Are you absolutely certain he used that word?"

"Yes," Emma whispered, shrinking back slightly from the raw intensity radiating from him. "He was pacing. He sounded desperate. He said, 'Uncle, you have to help me disappear. Adrian will never let me go if he knows about the girl.'"

Adrian closed his eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw. Silas stood frozen near the tactical table, his face pale.

In the Cole family, there was only one man they called Uncle. Marcus Cole. Adrian and James’s father’s brother. The man who had mentored Adrian, the man who sat as the consigliere of the Connecticut syndicate. The man Adrian trusted more than his own shadow.

"Boss," Silas started cautiously, taking a step forward. "Marcus... Marcus loved James. He wouldn't—"

"Get out," Adrian commanded, his eyes still closed.

"Adrian, we need to think this through—"

"I said get out!" Adrian roared, his eyes snapping open, blazing with an unholy fury that made even the hardened underboss flinch.

Silas didn't hesitate again. He slipped past Emma and exited the room, pulling the heavy doors shut behind him.

Emma stood alone with the most dangerous man in the state, watching him fracture. Adrian turned his back to her, gripping the edge of the tactical table so hard the wood groaned under his heavily tattooed hands. His knuckles were white.

"He sold him out," Adrian whispered to the empty room, his voice shaking with a devastating mixture of rage and grief. "Marcus knew James was leaving. He knew a Cole walking away would show weakness to the Rossi family. So he fed him to them."

Emma wrapped her arms around herself, her heart breaking for the man she had feared for so long. Beneath the tailored clothes and the ruthless reputation, he was just a brother mourning a boy he couldn't protect.

"Adrian," Emma said softly, taking a hesitant step forward.

"Don't," Adrian snapped, holding up a hand without turning around. "You need to leave. Tonight."

Emma blinked, stunned. "What? You said we could never leave."

Adrian finally turned around. His ruggedly handsome face was a mask of cold, calculated executioner. The grieving brother was gone; the Mafia Boss had returned.

"That was before I knew my own blood was trying to kill us," Adrian said, walking toward her with predatory grace. "Marcus controls half my captains. If he finds out Nora exists, he will realize you are the loose end from three years ago. He will kill you, and he will kill her to protect his secret."

"Then come with us," Emma pleaded desperately. "Leave it all behind. Just like James wanted."

Adrian offered a bitter, humorless smile. "I am the boss, Emma. If I run, they hunt us to the ends of the earth. I stay. I bleed out the poison in my house."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy set of keys, pressing them into her trembling hand.

"There is a safe house in Vermont. The address is in the glovebox of the black SUV in the east garage. It’s fully stocked, and there is a bag with a quarter of a million dollars in cash in the trunk. You take Nora, and you drive. You don't stop for gas, you don't use your phone."

"Adrian, I'm terrified," Emma whispered, tears spilling down her rosy cheeks.

Adrian reached out, his large, rough hand gently wiping a tear from her face. It was the most tender gesture she had ever seen him make.