THE NEW NURSE RIPPED THE MAFIA BOSS’S WATCH OFF IN FRONT OF HIS FAMILY—THEN SAW WHAT SOMEONE HAD TAPED UNDERNEATH IT “Take your hands off my brother.”

Frank didn't make it to the hallway.

Two of Luca's hospital guards slammed him into the doorframe before he could turn the knob. The sound of bone hitting wood echoed sharply through the room.

"Zip-tie him," Luca ordered, his voice terrifyingly calm. He ripped the IV from his own arm. A small drop of blood spilled onto the white sheets.

"Mr. Romano, you cannot leave," I said, stepping in front of him. "Your heart rate—"

"Nurse," he said, pulling his shirt over his chest. "In five minutes, Vitiello's men will realize I'm not dying. Then they will come here. Are you staying?"

I grabbed my emergency medical bag. "I'll drive."

Thirty minutes later, we were in the back of an unmarked SUV, speeding toward the South Side. Teresa sat silently in the front seat, clutching her purse. I sat in the back with Luca. His face was pale, his breathing shallow. The withdrawal from the transdermal patches was beginning.

"The rosary," Luca said, breaking the silence. "How did Frank get it?"

"He took it from Elena," I said. "Before she was locked away."

"Which means Frank knew Elena was the real Elena, and the woman at dinner was Sofia. He knew they swapped." Luca rubbed his jaw. "How long?"

"Elena went to Rome six weeks ago," Teresa whispered from the front. "That's when Sofia came back. She came to me. She begged for my help."

Luca stared at his mother's back. "You knew she was in Chicago?"

"She had nowhere else to go, Luca. She was running."

"From whom?"

Teresa didn't answer.

The SUV pulled into an abandoned warehouse district and stopped inside a rusted loading bay. Four men armed with rifles stood waiting. This was the safe house.

We hurried inside. The interior was surprisingly warm, furnished with old leather couches and monitors displaying camera feeds of the surrounding streets.

Sitting on one of the couches, wrapped in a blanket, was a woman.

She looked up as we entered.

Navy silk dress. A string of pearls.

Elena. The real Elena.

She looked exhausted, her makeup smeared, but she was unharmed.

Luca crossed the room and pulled his sister into a tight embrace. For a moment, the mafia boss disappeared, replaced by a terrified older brother.

"Sofia called," Luca said, pulling back. "She said she locked you in the cellar to save you."

Elena shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "She didn't lock me in, Luca. I hid there myself. Sofia was the one who lured Vitiello's men to the estate."

I froze. "What?"

"Sofia isn't trying to save this family," Elena sobbed. "She's trying to destroy it. She's been poisoning you, Luca. I found her stash of patches this afternoon. That's why she chased me into the cellar."

Luca stepped back. The betrayal in his eyes was absolute.

I looked at Elena. Something was wrong. Her story made perfect sense.

Too perfect.

I looked down at her hands.

She was clutching a rosary.

Silver beads. Small blue stones.

My blood ran cold. The exact same rosary that had dropped from Frank's coat forty minutes ago.

"Elena," I said softly. "Where did you get that?"

She looked at me, her eyes hardening for just a fraction of a second. "It's mine. I always wear it."

"No," I said, stepping backward. "You don't. Because the real one is in an evidence bag at the hospital."