Chapter 1 - THE EIGHT-MINUTE COUNTDOWNMy husband snapped my arm like dry kindling, kicked straight through the bathroom door, and laughed because he honestly believed no one in the world would ever come to the rescue of a broke diner waitress like me.
He expected me to curl up, cry, lie to the police for him, and stay quiet just like I had for five miserable years of physical and mental abuse.
What he didn't know was that seconds before he smashed the lock, I had dialed Vincent Moretti—the most feared, untouchable mafia boss in New York. And Vincent had picked up the phone, listened to the chaos, and given me a single, chilling command: “Stay alive for eight minutes.”
My left forearm hung at a sickening, unnatural angle. I cradled it against my ribs while clutching my cell phone tight with my good hand.
Daniel stepped over the splintered wood of the bathroom door, a cruel, mocking grin stretching across his face. He demanded I hand the phone over. When I refused, his grin vanished, and he called me pathetic, worthless, and weak.
For the first time in half a decade, I didn't flinch. I looked him straight in the eye, shook my head, and held the phone up.
A cold, lethal voice echoed through the cracked speaker.
“Daniel Hayes.”
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My husband froze in his tracks. The color drained from his skin. I had never spoken Vincent's name aloud to Daniel, yet here the underworld king was, calling him out by his full legal name.
Then Vincent spoke again, his tone terrifyingly quiet: “Step away from her.”
