Chapter 5 - THE MEXICAN STANDOFFVance froze, the heavy wire cutters hovering inches from Vincent’s face. For a fraction of a second, surprise flashed across his gaunt features. Then, a slow, ugly smile spread across his mouth.
"Well, look what the stray cat dragged in," Vance purred, not bothering to turn around. "The little social worker from Baltimore. You’ve got a lot of nerve walking into my kitchen."
"I told you I wasn't going to wait," Zara said, stepping further into the room, her footing steady, her aim unwavering. "Hands where I can see them, Vance. Now."
Slowly, Vance lowered the wire cutters. But as he did, his fingers twitched toward his jacket pocket.
"Don't do it," Zara warned, tightening her finger on the trigger.
"You think it's just me in this building?" Vance laughed softly, stepping behind Vincent’s chair and using the battered mafia boss as a human shield. "My men are swarming this sub-level right now. You might kill me, Miss Coleman, but Vincent will catch every single bullet that misses my heart."
Vincent raised his head, his swollen eyes locking onto Zara. Despite the blood and the bruises, a faint, proud smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You shouldn't have come, Zara," Vincent rasped, his voice rough and deep. "It's a trap."
"I know," Zara replied without breaking eye contact with Vance. "That's why I brought backup."
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From the dark, blown-out doorway behind Zara, a massive white shape emerged. Ghost stepped into the sterile white room, his fur matted with dust, his teeth bared in a silent, murderous snarl. He didn't bark. He didn't hesitate.
Vance's eyes widened in sheer terror as the hundred-and-ten-pound beast launched himself across the room like a missile.
