At 10:47 on a stormy October night, my five-year-old daughter walked into the study of Long Island's most feared mafia boss and asked to borrow his vicious ninety-pound guard dog. When he asked why, she whispered, "Because the man who knocks on my window only comes when Mama is working late." By the time I learned what she'd said, something was already moving through the walls of the mansion.

The lighthouse stood at the end of a narrow road overlooking Long Island Sound, its white tower battered by wind and salt. By 10:30 p.m., rain had turned the path into mud.

Dante wanted to send a full security team.

I refused.

“If Antonio sees a convoy, he'll disappear with Elena.”

“And if you walk in alone, he gets two hostages instead of one.”

“I won't bring Sophie.”

That finally silenced him.

Sophie would remain at the mansion with Bruno and two guards Dante trusted with his life. Lily would stay beside her. The girls had spent the afternoon drawing pictures together, and for the first time, Lily had laughed without looking toward the door.

I wasn't going to risk that.

Dante handed me a tiny transmitter disguised as a button.

“If anything happens, press it.”

“What happens if I can't?”

His eyes held mine.

“Then I'll find you anyway.”

I entered the lighthouse alone.

At the top of the spiral staircase, a woman stood beside the lantern room window. She wore a dark raincoat and held a pistol pointed toward the floor.

She turned.

Elena.

My little sister looked older than the last time I'd seen her, with a thin scar along her jaw and exhaustion in her eyes.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Then she dropped the gun and ran into my arms.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” she whispered.

I held her tightly.

“Where have you been?”

“Trying to keep the girls alive.”

She explained that Antonio had discovered her investigation and arranged her disappearance. She had escaped the attack but couldn't return to us without leading his men directly to Sophie.

She had sent the warnings through intermediaries, hoping to keep Sophie safe without revealing her own location.

“The man at the window was Antonio,” she said. “He used the tunnel because the security system couldn't detect him.”

“Why Sophie?”

“Because she saw him. Because she remembered his watch. And because he believes your daughter can unlock the archive.”

I showed her the brass key.

Elena went pale.

“That isn't the original.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

“It's a decoy. Miguel made two keys. The real one is hidden somewhere only Sophie would know.”

Before I could ask where, the lighthouse lights went out.

A door slammed below.