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“You have no idea who I am,” she said. “You can glare at me and threaten my life all you want. You’re not the first man to do it.”

Something tightened in my gut.

Fuck.

“I was hired to do a job,” she continued. “That’s it. Sarah Farris wasn’t my idea. I didn’t build the City’s case. I didn’t choose which files landed on my desk. I was given orders, Mr. Byrnes, and in my world, saying no has consequences. Like I said, it wasn’t personal.”

“A job that involved walking into my club with NYPD and a folder of legal threats.”

“Yes.”

“Nothing personal?”

Her mouth twisted, but it was only a half-smile. “Do men like you ever believe that?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t waste either of our time pretending you will.”

I watched her fingers tighten on the desk’s edge, her knuckles turning white.

“You threatened my club,” I said.

“I know.”

“You threatened my family.”

Her breath caught at that.

“That makes it personal,” I growled. “When you kick a dog, you don’t get to complain because he bites.”

“I didn’t kick a dog, Mr. Byrnes.” Her voice thinned, but she held my gaze. “I stepped into a room full of wolves because someone ordered me to.”

My anger shifted, making space for something I didn’t want to feel.

A thread of guilt I should’ve cut before it tied a knot in my conscience.

I stepped directly in front of her and caught her chin between my fingers again.

This time, she didn’t jerk away.

“So, what are you going to do now, Isabella?”

Her lashes lowered. When she looked back up, the tears still clung there, unshed.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “That’s the problem.”

She didn’t shift her demeanor or cover up her thoughts.

“I’m between a rock and a hard place,” she said. “You came here to threaten me. The men behind that folder will do worse if I fail them.”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

I hated that I heard it.

She swallowed hard.

“What should I do?”