Chapter 3 - THE HIDDEN LIFEI took her to my penthouse—not as a prisoner, but as the only person I’d ever truly cared about. I laid her on the sofa and didn't wait for her permission to check the injury. It wasn't a slip; it was a deep, jagged laceration from a knife.
"Who?" I demanded, my hands hovering over the wound.
"My brother," she sobbed. "He owed a debt to the South Side crew—the same crew that’s been hitting your routes. They said if I didn't feed them your manifests, they’d kill him. I didn't tell them anything, Dominic. I’ve been working this job to pay them off piece by piece, but they keep raising the interest."
