The air inside the master suite felt thick enough to suffocate us. The two guards at the door, men who had executed rivals without a second thought, stared at Damian Volkov as if he had just spoken in a forgotten language.

“Don Volkov! What is the meaning of this?” Dr. Vance screamed, pinned to the floor as Viktor drew his pistol and pressed the barrel to the doctor’s temple.

“Find the trigger!” Damian ordered, coughing violently as the strain flared up his chest pain.

Viktor searched Vance’s coat and pulled out a small black key fob with a red LED light flickering on the top. He handed it to Damian immediately.

Damian stared at the device, then looked toward me and my daughter. Lila was trembling slightly, holding her cloth rabbit tight against her chest. She couldn't hear the gunfire due to the suppressed barrel, but she saw the blood. She saw the violence.

I wrapped my arms around Lila, covering her eyes. “Please, Mr. Volkov! We saw nothing. We know nothing! Just let me take my daughter and leave Baltimore. We won't say a word!”

Damian looked at me. For a moment, the cold, ruthless boss of the Baltimore underworld hesitated. He looked at the four-year-old child who had just accidentally unraveled an assassination plot that had stumped the city's top cartel leaders.

“If you walk out those doors, Elena, Vance’s conspirators will kill you before you reach the end of the driveway,” Damian said, his voice cold and realistic. “They know a maid and her child were in this room when the plot fell apart. The moment Vance doesn't report back, his backers will sweep this entire mansion.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “Then... what do we do?”

“You stay,” Damian said firmly. He looked down at his own chest, then back at Lila. “Your daughter felt the frequency of the mechanical device. Standard medical scanners at the hospital are compromised by Vance’s software. I need someone who can detect the subtle fluctuations of the EMP device while my personal surgeon removes it safely.”

“She’s four years old!” I shouted, forgetting for a moment who I was talking to. “She’s a baby! I won't let you use her in your mob wars!”

The remaining guard stepped forward aggressively, but Damian raised his hand to stop him.

“I am not using her, Elena. I am offering you protection,” Damian said quietly. “My inner circle has been infiltrated. I can trust no one. But a mother trying to save her child? That is an honesty I can buy.” Damian reached into his nightstand and pulled out a heavy black leather folder, tossing it onto the bed. “Inside that file is ten million dollars in offshore bonds, along with clean passports for you and your daughter. Help me survive the next forty-eight hours, and that folder is yours. Refuse, and none of us leave this estate alive.”

I looked at the folder, then down at Lila. She pulled away from my embrace slightly, her small hands signing to me: Is the man hurt? Can we fix his heart?

Tears blurred my vision. I was a broke maid living paycheck to paycheck, terrified of the world. But looking into my daughter’s innocent eyes, I knew our quiet life was over.

“How do we get the real surgeon here without Vance’s men knowing?” I asked, my voice shaking.

Damian smiled—a dark, dangerous smirk that sent a chill down my spine. “We don't bring the surgeon here. We bring the entire Baltimore syndicate to Grayhaven House. We hold a funeral.”

Before I could process his words, Damian pressed the black key fob in his hand.

A quiet, high-pitched hum resonated from his chest. Damian gasped loudly, his eyes rolling back as his body went completely limp, dropping back onto the mattress as the pulse device triggered a localized cardiac shock.

“Mr. Volkov!” I screamed.