His Shy Secretary Fell Asleep on the Mafia Boss’s Shoulder, and the Order He Gave Next Made Every Man on the Jet Go Silent Everyone on the private jet thought Caitlyn Elmore had just made the last mistake of her life.

The armored SUV came to a screeching halt three blocks away from Hamilton Tower. Through the windshield, they could see dozens of unmarked black vans idling aggressively in the plaza surrounding the massive skyscraper. Heavily armed mercenaries, wearing tactical gear with no identifying insignia, were pouring into the main lobby. The Commission had not waited for Marcus Vance to return; they had launched a full-scale siege on Damian's headquarters.

"They breached the ground floor security," Vincent reported, looking at a live feed on his tactical tablet. "Our men are holding the executive elevators, but they are severely outnumbered. The Commission sent an army."

Damian's eyes turned entirely cold, the vulnerable man from the backseat instantly replaced by the ruthless warlord of New York. He checked the magazine of his pistol and chambered a round with a sharp, metallic click.

"Vincent, take Caitlyn back to the secure Pennsylvania compound," Damian ordered without hesitation. "Lock down the bunker. Do not let anyone inside."

"Absolutely not," Caitlyn declared fiercely, grabbing Damian's arm before he could open the heavy car door. "I am not running away and leaving you to die in that building."

"Caitlyn, this is a warzone!" Damian argued, his voice rising with protective panic. "I will not risk your life."

"You need me, Damian," Caitlyn fired back, pointing at her laptop resting on the seat. "The Trojan horse is currently inside The Commission's servers, but the encryption key is dynamic. I have to physically connect to the master terminal in your penthouse office to execute the final financial wipe. If you just shoot them, they will just send more men tomorrow. If I bankrupt them, the war ends tonight."

Damian stared at her stubborn, beautiful face. She was completely fearless, a brilliant strategist forged in the very fires of the criminal world she was trying to dismantle. He realized he could not protect her by locking her away; he had to fight beside her.

"Fine," Damian agreed, his jaw set like granite. "But you stay exactly behind me. If I tell you to run, you do not look back."

They abandoned the SUV and moved silently through the dark alleyways, utilizing a secret underground maintenance tunnel that connected directly to the sub-basement of Hamilton Tower. Damian had designed the building perfectly, anticipating that he might one day face a siege from the old guard.

They bypassed the chaotic firefight in the main lobby, using a private, biometric-locked elevator shaft to ascend rapidly to the seventieth floor. The penthouse office was dark, lit only by the glowing neon lights of the city skyline pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Caitlyn rushed immediately to the massive glass desk and opened her laptop. She connected a heavy data cable directly into the mainframe terminal hidden beneath the floorboards.

"Initiating the bypass sequence now," Caitlyn announced, her fingers flying across the keyboard with blinding speed. "It is going to take exactly five minutes to completely drain their offshore accounts and route the money into federal charity trusts."

"We just have to hold them off for five minutes," Vincent said, pulling a heavy assault rifle from a hidden weapons cache behind a bookshelf. He tossed a spare weapon to Damian.

Suddenly, the heavy reinforced steel doors of the penthouse began to shudder violently. Sparks flew as the mercenaries on the other side applied a thermal breaching charge to the locks.

"They are on our floor," Damian noted calmly, checking his weapon one last time. He walked over to Caitlyn, leaned down, and kissed her fiercely. "Five minutes, sweetheart. Don't stop typing."

Damian and Vincent moved to the center of the room, taking cover behind heavy marble pillars, turning the luxurious office into an impenetrable defensive fortress.