“Listen, kid. Heal my twins and I’ll adopt you.” I said it to the barefoot homeless boy as a cruel joke in front of three hundred wealthy guests. I was Richard Vale, the most powerful Mafia boss in America, a man who could make almost anything happen with one phone call, but when Noah calmly placed his hands on my children’s knees, my daughter suddenly whispered, “Daddy… I can feel it.”

"Lock the doors to this wing," I commanded, my voice carrying the absolute, unquestionable weight of a general issuing orders on the eve of battle.

Claire didn't panic. She had lived in my world long enough to know the rules of engagement. She stood up instantly, grabbing Leo and Lila by the hands. "Come on, kids. We’re going to the safe room downstairs. Now."

"Mom, what's happening?" Leo protested, his newly responsive legs trembling as he tried to stand too fast.

"Do as your mother says!" I barked, then softened my tone slightly as I looked down at Noah. "Noah, stay with them. Don't leave their sight."

Noah looked up at me, sensing the heavy, metallic smell of impending violence in the air. He didn't look scared. He looked... focused.

"They're coming for me, aren't they?" Noah asked quietly. "Because of what I did in the ballroom."

"They're coming because they think I'm weak," I said, pulling my phone from my pocket and dialing a rapid sequence of encrypted numbers. "They think a man with healing children is a man whose guard is down. They're about to find out how wrong they are."

I hit speed dial for Marcus, my chief of security and a veteran of the Spetsnaz.

"Marcus. Perimeter breach. Three black Navigators at the main gate. Victor Vance is leading them. Tell the boys on the ridge to let them pass the first security checkpoint, then seal the kill box between the third and fourth fountains. I want every single one of them neutralized before they reach the main house."

“Copy that, boss. Ten mike-rites and they’re history,” Marcus’s gruff voice crackled over the secure line.

I snapped the phone shut and strode across the dining room toward the reinforced armory built into the oak-paneled wall. I punched the combination, the heavy steel door swinging open to reveal an array of tactical gear, submachine guns, and sidearms neatly mounted on felt-lined racks.

I grabbed a customized SIG Sauer MPX, slapping a loaded thirty-round magazine into the housing and pulling the charging handle back with a sharp, metallic clack.

"Richard!"

I turned. Claire was standing in the doorway of the safe room corridor, her face pale, holding Lila tightly against her hip while Leo leaned heavily on a carbon-fiber crutch. Noah stood right beside them, his amber eyes fixed on me with an intensity that pierced right through my tactical focus.

"Be careful," Claire whispered, her voice cracking. "We finally got our family back. Don't you dare let them take it away."

"They won't get past the foyer," I promised, offering her a grim, hard smile.

I turned on my heel and headed down the dimly lit hallway toward the grand entrance hall, where the crystal chandeliers still cast their warm, mocking light over the marble floor where Noah had performed a miracle less than an hour ago.