I HELD A SCREAMING MAFIA HEIR AGAINST MY BARE CHEST TO SAVE HIS LIFE — THEN HIS FATHER HEARD MY LAST NAME AND LOCKED THE DOOR

By 2:00 PM, the atmosphere in the private NICU suite had turned from a quiet medical sanctuary into a tactical prep room.

The news from New York had escalated. Don Antonio’s loyalists had been spotted near the hospital grounds, disguised as private security contractors. Daniel wasn't going to leave his son in a public building where a single cut wire or a poisoned IV bag could end the Russo bloodline.

"We move at 1600 hours," Matteo announced, holding a radio unit in his hand. "We have three armored Suburban SUVs lined up in the basement garage. A decoy convoy will leave from the main entrance at 1550."

I had changed into the soft gray cotton shirt and black leggings Matteo had brought. I sat on the edge of the bed, holding Leo again while Daniel finished buttoning his fresh shirt.

"I am not letting you transport a twenty-nine-week premature infant in an SUV," I said firmly, looking between Daniel and Matteo. "He can't handle the vibration of the road, let alone a sudden acceleration. His lungs are under-developed. If his airway collapses during transport, he will suffocate in minutes."

Matteo frowned, stepping forward. "Miss Jenkins, staying here is a death sentence. Don Antonio’s men don't play by hospital rules."

"I don't care about Don Antonio!" I snapped, my nurse instinct overriding every ounce of self-preservation I had left. "I care about this baby! If you move him without a portable incubator equipped with continuous high-flow oxygen and a mobile suction kit, I will not step foot out of this room!"

Daniel held up his hand, stopping Matteo from speaking. He walked over to me, kneeling down until we were eye-to-eye.

"If I get the equipment you need," Daniel said softly, "can you keep him alive during the thirty-minute drive to my estate?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "If I am holding him, and if I have a portable airway bag and an oxygen tank."

Daniel looked at me for three long seconds, searching my eyes for any trace of doubt. Finding none, he nodded.

"Matteo. Secure a transport incubator from the private medical flight team at O'Hare. Get the mobile oxygen rig. Nurse Jenkins sits in the back of my primary vehicle with Leo."

"Understood, Boss," Matteo said, bowing his head before rushing out of the room.

Daniel turned his back to the door and reached into his inner jacket pocket. He pulled out a sleek, black smartphone and tossed it onto the bed beside me.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Call your brother," Daniel said coldly.

My fingers trembled as I picked up the heavy phone. I unlocked the screen, dialed Tommy’s number, and pressed it to my ear.

It rang three times before a breathless, weeping voice answered.

"Hello? Hello?!" Tommy sobbed into the receiver.

"Tommy?" I gasped, tears instantly springing to my eyes. "Tommy, are you okay?!"

"Clara!" Tommy cried out, his voice cracking with pure terror. "Clara, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! These guys... they locked me in a basement! They said... they said they were gonna break my legs, Clara! Please, you gotta help me—"

"Shut up, Tommy!" I shouted, holding back a sob as I looked up at Daniel, who stood watching me with cold indifference. "Shut up and listen to me! You are alive because I am taking care of Mr. Russo's son. Do you understand me? You don't say a word, you don't fight them, and you sit in that damn chair until I tell you otherwise!"

"Clara... what are you talking about? Who's Mr. Russo—"

Daniel reached down, took the phone smoothly from my hand, and pressed it to his own ear.

"Listen to me, Jenkins," Daniel said into the line, his voice dropping into a lethal, terrifying register. "Your sister is currently holding the heir to the Chicago outfit in her arms. If she blinks wrong because she's worried about you, I will have Marco feed you your own teeth. Am I clear?"

A muffled sob came through the speaker before Daniel ended the call and tossed the phone back into his pocket.

I stared up at him, my breathing fast and ragged. "Was that really necessary?"

"It was entirely necessary," Daniel said, his gaze hard as flint. "Fear keeps weak men compliant, Nurse Jenkins. Your brother needs to understand the weight of the thread his life is hanging on."