“You righteous idiot,” he coughed. “You think this changes anything?”

Matteo walked toward him.

Agents screamed commands.

Laser sights painted red across both men.

“It changes enough,” Matteo replied.

Dante smiled through bloody teeth.

“Chicago will always belong to men like us.”

Matteo’s expression darkened.

“No. Men like you.”

Then he dropped his gun.

The metallic clatter echoed through the warehouse.

One by one, Romano’s surviving men followed.

Leo cursed violently but complied.

Sophie stared at Matteo in disbelief.

For the first time since meeting him, he looked less like a crime lord and more like a man suddenly tired of carrying corpses.

Agents swarmed forward.

Dante Vescari reached secretly toward a fallen pistol.

Sophie saw it first.

“MATTEO!”

Dante fired.

The shot cracked through the warehouse.

Matteo staggered.

And Leo the Brick emptied three bullets directly into Dante’s chest.

Silence crashed over the building.

Dante Vescari collapsed beside the loading dock, dead before he hit the concrete.

Matteo dropped to one knee.

Blood spread across his white shirt.

Sophie ran to him.

Federal agents shouted for her to stop.

She ignored them.

Matteo looked up at her with strange calm.

“You were right,” he said weakly.

“About what?”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

“Four mistakes.”

Three months later, Chicago looked cleaner on television.

That was the lie.

The city still breathed corruption through every alley and polished high-rise lobby.

But after the Romano-Vescari collapse, dozens of officials disappeared into indictments.

Police captains resigned.

Judges vanished from benches.

Federal investigations spread like cracks through old concrete.

The newspapers called it the largest organized-crime seizure in Illinois history.

They never mentioned Sophie Gallagher.

Which was exactly how she wanted it.

Rain drifted softly outside her office window downtown.

Actuarial reports covered her desk once more.

Normal life.

At least something resembling it.

Across from her sat Chloe.

Alive.

Restless.

Trying unsuccessfully not to fidget.

“So,” Chloe muttered, “you’re seriously not gonna ask where I’ve been sleeping?”

Sophie looked up from her laptop.

“Do I want the answer?”

“Definitely not.”

That earned the smallest smile.

For years their conversations had felt like negotiations between strangers wearing the same face.

Now there was something else beneath the sarcasm.

Survival.

Shared terror.

Maybe even forgiveness.

Chloe became serious.

“You saved my life.”

Sophie leaned back quietly.

“You’re still incredibly annoying.”

“Yeah, but alive.”

The office door opened.

Both sisters froze.

Matteo Romano stepped inside wearing a dark overcoat and no visible bodyguards.

Chloe nearly fell out of her chair.

“You got shot!”

“Doctors were very dramatic about it,” Matteo replied.

Sophie stood slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Probably not.”

Yet there he was.

Alive despite every prediction.

Charges against him had become complicated after his cooperation with federal investigators. Half the city wanted him imprisoned forever. The other half wanted him dead before trial.

Matteo looked tired.

But lighter somehow.

As if surrendering had removed invisible weight from his shoulders.

He handed Sophie a sealed envelope.

“What is this?”

“A thank-you.”

She opened it carefully.

Inside was a single property deed.

Lake Geneva.

A small lakeside house.

Paid in full.

Sophie looked up sharply.

“I can’t accept this.”

“Yes, you can.” Matteo’s voice remained calm. “You saved my life twice.”

Chloe blinked between them.

“Wait. Is this flirting? Because this is the weirdest flirting I’ve ever seen.”

For the first time, Matteo actually laughed openly.

Warm.

Human.

Not the controlled sound from the warehouse.

Something real.

And Sophie realized with sudden surprise that she liked hearing it.