“The information,” Grace murmured, keeping her voice low, steady, and entirely free of the practiced hospitality tone she used for tips, “is that everybody in this room thinks you are a monster right now. And they are wrong.”

“I have to hand it to you, sweetheart,” Marcus said, taking a slow sip of his drink as he stepped further into the study, closing the door behind him. “When Dominic hired some random waitress to play babysitter, I thought he was just getting soft in his old age. I never imagined he’d send her to do a killer’s job.”

Grace’s hand hovered just inches from the open safe containing the flash drive. Her heart was pounding so hard she was certain Marcus could hear it across the room.

“I’m just here for the catering tips,” Grace managed to say, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the cold barrel of the gun pointed straight at her heart.

Marcus chuckled, a low, smooth sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Catering tips don't usually involve cracking high-security wall safes, Miss Bennett. But then again, Dominic always did have a knack for finding desperate people and turning them into disposable tools.”

Through the tiny earpiece in her ear, Grace heard nothing. Absolute, terrifying silence. Dominic was listening to every single word.

“You’re a coward, Marcus,” Grace said loudly, stalling for time, projecting her voice so the hidden microphone would pick up every syllable for the man on the other end of the line. “You burned down a house with an innocent woman inside just to steal an empire that was never yours.”

Marcus’s polite smile vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, venomous glare. The friendly facade melted away, revealing the ruthless sociopath beneath.

“She was going to ruin everything,” Marcus spat, taking another step closer, raising the pistol slightly. “Dominic was going soft. He wanted out of the drug routes, out of the unions, out of the life. He was ready to hand the whole syndicate over to the feds just to play family man. Someone had to take control. Someone had to keep the machine running.”

“And little Sophie?” Grace challenged, her eyes flashing with fury. “Were you going to shoot an eight-year-old girl in the back too?”

“Loose ends must be tied, my dear,” Marcus said smoothly, lifting the barrel of the gun until it was level with Grace’s forehead. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just business. And unfortunately for you, you’re about to become a very permanent loose end.”

Grace closed her eyes for a split second, bracing herself. She had come so far, fought so hard, but staring down the barrel of a gun, reality set in. She was just a waitress. She wasn't an action hero.

Click.

It wasn't the sound of Marcus’s gun firing.

It was the sound of the heavy mahogany study door being blown completely off its reinforced steel hinges.

BOOM!

Before Marcus could even blink, a wall of pure, unadulterated violence stormed into the room.

Dominic Hale didn't wait, didn't negotiate, and didn't hesitate. Moving with terrifying, predatory speed, he crossed the room like a freight train, slamming Marcus directly into the mahogany desk with a bone-rattling crash.

The glass of scotch shattered across the floor. Marcus’s pistol went skittering across the Turkish rug.

Dominic’s hands gripped Marcus by the lapels of his expensive suit, lifting the much older man entirely off his feet as if he weighed nothing at all. Dominic’s face was twisted into a mask of pure, murderous rage—the face of a husband whose wife had been murdered, and a father whose daughter had been hunted.

“You touched my family,” Dominic whispered, his voice shaking with a terrifying, suppressed fury that echoed off the stone walls.

Marcus choked for air, his face turning purple, scratching frantically at Dominic’s wrists. “D-Dominic... wait... we’re brothers...”

“You stopped being my brother five years ago,” Dominic snarled.

Grace didn't hesitate. While Dominic held the traitor pinned, she dove to the floor, snatched the titanium flash drive from the open safe, and clutched it tightly to her chest.

At that exact moment, heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway as Dominic’s elite bodyguards swarmed the room, securing the perimeter and neutralizing Marcus’s remaining guards outside.

Dominic slowly lowered Marcus to the floor, dropping the traitor like a broken toy. Marcus collapsed, coughing and gasping for air, clutching his bruised throat.

Dominic turned around, his chest heaving, his gray eyes immediately locking onto Grace. He crossed the room in two strides, grabbing her by the shoulders to inspect her from head to toe.

“Are you hurt?” Dominic demanded, his voice uncharacteristically frantic.