The waitress leaned close enough that I could feel her breath against my ear. “You need to leave. Now.” Then I looked toward the r

The glass from the restaurant’s front window didn’t just break. It pulverized.

A spray of crystal shards rained down on the white tablecloths, followed instantly by the screams of the dinner crowd.

Cashion didn’t flinch.

Before the second gunshot even cracked through the dining room, his heavy overcoat was wrapped around me. He tackled me to the hardwood floor, his large body completely shielding mine.

"Stay down!" he roared, his voice cutting through the sheer panic of the room.

He reached out blindly and grabbed Eli by the collar of his graduation suit, yanking my younger brother under the cover of the heavy oak bar.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn't breathe. I was trapped beneath Cashion, inhaling the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the sharp, metallic tang of gunpowder.

For three years, I had convinced myself that this man was the monster of my story.

But as another bullet shattered the liquor bottles above us, raining amber liquid down our backs, Cashion’s hand found the back of my neck. His thumb stroked my skin. A deeply ingrained, protective reflex.

"You're okay, Mara," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot. "I've got you."

He pulled a matte-black handgun from his shoulder holster. He didn't look like a man surprised by an ambush. He looked like a man who had been expecting a war for a thousand days.

"Three shooters," Cashion said to Eli, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Front door. When I return fire, you take your sister through the kitchen. Don't look back. My car is in the alley."

"I'm not leaving you!" I shouted over the alarm bells.

Cashion finally looked down at me. His dark eyes were filled with a lifetime of unanswered questions, but right now, all that mattered was keeping me alive.

"You left me once, Mara," he said softly. "You can do it again."

Before I could respond, he rolled off me, stood up behind the bar, and fired three deafening shots toward the entrance.

"Go!" he yelled.

Eli grabbed my arm, hauling me up. We sprinted through the swinging doors of the kitchen. Cooks and waiters were huddled on the grease-stained tiles, weeping.

We burst through the back exit into the cold, rain-slicked alley.

Cashion’s black SUV was idling there, his driver already holding the back door open.

A second later, Cashion shoved through the doors behind us. He wasn't bleeding, but his jaw was clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently beneath his scar.

"Get in," he ordered.

We scrambled into the backseat. Cashion slammed the door and jumped into the front. "Drive. Now."

The SUV tore out of the alley, tires screaming against the wet asphalt.

I sat trembling in the leather seat, staring at the back of Cashion's head. We had survived. But the reality of what just happened was settling like lead in my stomach.

"They found you," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Your enemies. They found you."

Cashion turned slowly in his seat to look at me. The streetlights flashed across his face, illuminating a cold, terrifying truth.

"They weren't aiming at me, Mara," he said flatly.

I froze. "What?"

Cashion reached into his pocket and tossed a small object onto the center console.

It was a silver lighter.

It was engraved with a crest—a coiled snake gripping a dagger.

"The waitress dropped this before she ran," Cashion said. "The one who told you to leave."

Reversal.

The waitress hadn't been trying to save me. She was flushing me out.

"That crest," Cashion continued, his eyes locked on mine. "Belongs to the Morano family. They don't have a feud with me, Mara. They don't even operate in this city."

My blood ran completely cold.

"So why," Cashion asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "did a Morano hit squad just try to execute you?"

I couldn't speak. I looked at the silver lighter, the memory of three years ago crashing down on me. I hadn't just run away from Cashion. I had run away with something that didn't belong to me.

But before I could confess, Eli suddenly gripped my arm. His face was ashen.

"Mara," Eli gasped, staring at his phone. "The babysitter."