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The ink on the medical schedule wasn't standard printer black. It was darker, heavier, pressed down with the kind of deliberate malice that only a fountain pen could deliver. I stared at the signature at the bottom of the page, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. / Chapter 14 / 20

Chapter 14 - Amara’s Precision

Before Roman could pull his trigger, a small, blur-like motion flashed past my side.

Amara wasn't cowering anymore. She had picked up a heavy, solid-brass paperweight that had fallen from the desk into the hallway during the chaos. With surprising force for an eight-year-old, she hurled it straight through the open doorway.

Clank!

The brass weight struck Dante squarely across his writing hand with bone-crushing accuracy.

A sharp cry of pain escaped Dante’s lips. His pistol slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the marble floor.

In that split-second distraction, Roman moved with terrifying speed. He crossed the room in three strides, slamming the butt of his pistol into Dante’s jaw. Dante crumpled instantly, crashing unconscious onto the Persian rug.

Elena froze, her hands flying to her mouth as she looked down at her fallen husband. The indomitable ice queen of the Chicago underworld was suddenly nothing more than a terrified woman trapped in a cage of her own making.

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The burner phone in my hand felt heavy, like a slab of cold iron pulled from a sunken ship. Across the line, Marcus let out a breath that sounded like a low whistle escaping a pressure valve. Nineteen years of rust, nineteen years of school plays, quiet dinners, and ledger sheets—all of it dissolved in the space of a single heartbeat.

The burner phone in my hand felt heavy, like a slab of cold iron pulled...

The man in the back of the Bentley was not a stranger, though it took me three agonizing seconds to place the face behind the silver-trimmed beard. Arthur Vance. The reclusive billionaire shipping tycoon, corporate sniper, and my father’s oldest, most estranged rival.

The man in the back of the Bentley was not a stranger, though it took me...

The kitchen was so quiet you could hear the distant murmur of the jazz trio outside, playing as if the world hadn't just tilted on its axis. Grant stared at the single sheet of thick parchment resting against the cold Italian marble. His breath caught, a shallow, ragged hitch that gave away his panic before his voice ever could.

The kitchen was so quiet you could hear the distant murmur of the jazz t...

Roman lowered his weapon slightly, turning his gaze toward his wife. “Your family on the South Side won’t come for you, Elena. They cut ties the moment my intelligence agency handed them the ledger of your offshore embezzlement. You are entirely alone.”

Elena slowly sank to her knees, her shoulders shaking as the reality of her total defeat washed over her.

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