2The Maid’s Toddler Refused to Leave the Mafia Boss’s Hospital Room, and What She Smelled Made Every Doctor Turn Pale

"Report!" Mason yelled into the radio comms, drawing his weapon immediately.

"Roadblock ahead, Reed!" the driver of the lead escort vehicle shouted back through the speaker. "Two jackknifed semi-trucks blocking the harbor bridge! We're trapped on the causeway!"

Before the escort vehicles could reverse, two heavy construction cranes pulled out from the side access roads behind them, dragging massive concrete barrier blocks across the rear lanes.

The five-car convoy was completely boxed in on the two-lane coastal causeway.

Rain poured down from the black night sky, thunder rumbling loudly over the crashing waves of Port Lawson harbor forty feet below the bridge deck.

Bright halogen headlights flickered on from the tops of the semi-truck trailers, blinding the convoy in a sea of brilliant white light.

A loud, electronically amplified voice boomed across the stormy air.

"ADRIAN VALE!"

Mason squinted through the windshield. Standing on top of the lead semi-truck trailer, protected by four men carrying assault rifles, was a tall man in an expensive leather trench coat.

Julian Vance.

"Vance," Adrian growled, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared through the glass.

"You should have stayed dead in the hospital, Adrian!" Vance’s voice echoed through the bullhorn. "You're weak! You're soft! You let housekeepers and children ride in your lead car while your empire crumbles!"

Inside the SUV, Grace pulled Lily close, her whole body shaking with fear. "Adrian... what are we going to do?"

Adrian turned to Grace. His face held no panic, no hesitation—only the cold, calculating mind of a commander who had survived twenty years of turf wars.

"Mason," Adrian said calmly. "How many men do we have in the rear three vehicles?"

"Twelve," Mason replied. "All heavy hitters."

"Tell them to hold the rear blockade," Adrian commanded. "Don't let Vance’s men close the distance."

"And us, Boss?"

Adrian reached beneath his seat, pulling a hidden latch. A heavy steel compartment slid open, revealing two tactical submachine guns and four extra magazines.

"You and I are going to clear the bridge," Adrian said, handing one weapon to Mason.

"Adrian, you can't fight!" Grace cried, grabbing his arm. "Your stomach! You'll rip your stitches open!"

Adrian looked down at Grace’s hand on his sleeve. He reached over, placing his hand gently over hers, giving her a firm, reassuring squeeze.

"Grace," Adrian whispered, his eyes locking onto hers with intense, unwavering devotion. "I spent my whole life building an empire so I could protect the people I care about. I am not going to let a scullery rat like Julian Vance touch a single hair on your head."