“Move,” the first one barks, yanking me upright the moment my wrists are free.My legs buckle beneath me, weakened from hours of immobility and dehydration.He doesn’t care.He hauls me forward, half-dragging me toward the door.
“What’s going on?”I demand, though I already know.
“Shut up and walk.”
They drag me through corridors I’ve never seen, past rooms filled with equipment I don’t have time to identify.The sounds of battle grow louder with every step.I hear men screaming, the distinctive crack of sniper fire, and more explosions.This is the systematic destruction of everything my father built.
The Boyles aren’t just attacking.
They’re annihilating.
We emerge into a larger space, a loading bay with massive doors that open onto a concrete pad.The darkness of night disappears here, thanks to the dozens of floodlights surrounding the place.I catch a glimpse of the harbor beyond.Boats.Escape routes.My father’s contingency plans made manifest.
Giovanni stands near the center of the bay, barking orders into a phone while Cesare hovers at his shoulder like a pale shadow.When my father sees me, something flickers across his face.Relief?Calculation?I can’t tell anymore.I’m not sure I ever could.
“Bring her here,” he commands.
The guards shove me forward.I stumble but manage to stay upright, refusing to fall at my father’s feet.Whatever dignity I have left, I’ll keep it.
“Carina.” Giovanni’s voice is almost gentle as he reaches out to grip my arm.“We’re leaving.The helicopter is waiting on the roof.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
His fingers tighten, bruising.“You don’t have a choice.”
Another explosion rocks the building.Dust rains from the ceiling.One of the massive bay doors buckles inward, and through the gap, shadows are moving.Black shadows in military fatigues.Coordinated movements.The Boyle family’s private army, doing what they do best.
“They’re breaching the east wall!”someone shouts.
Giovanni’s face hardens.He yanks me closer, positioning me in front of him like a fucking human shield.
My stomach drops.
“Father.”
“Quiet.”His arm wraps around my chest, pinning my arms to my sides.Then, cold metal presses against my temple.A gun.My own father is holding a gun to my head.
“You wouldn’t,” I whisper.
“I don’t want to.”His voice is remarkably calm for a man whose empire is crumbling around him.“But I will if I have to.You’re my insurance policy now.The Boyles won’t risk killing you to get to me.”
The bay door crashes open completely.
And there he is.
Shelby moves through the smoke and debris like a demon emerging from hell, leading its hounds.Wearing black tactical gear and his weapons strapped to his body, Shelby is the avenging angel I’ve been praying for.The fallen kind.The only type of angel that can truly help me.His blue eyes scan the room behind his glasses with lethal precision until they find me.
With a gun pressed to my head.
Behind him, Tommy and Dave fan out, their weapons raised.I spot Joe among them, his face a mask of anguish as he takes in the scene.His father using his sister as a human shield.The ultimate betrayal made visible.
“Let her go, Giovanni.”Dave’s voice carries the authority of the Syndicate leader he is.“This is over.Your operation is finished.Your men are dead or surrendering.There’s nowhere left to run.”
“I disagree.”My father’s arm tightens around me.“I have a helicopter on the roof, billions of dollars stashed in offshore accounts, and a very valuable asset in my control.”He squeezes my forearm, as if I needed the reminder that I’m property.Goods to be bartered.Merchandise.“I think my options are quite promising.”
“You’re holding a gun to your own daughter’s head.”Tommy’s disgust is palpable.“What kind of father does that?”
“The kind who survives.”
