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

I stared at the security monitor, the blood rushing in my ears.

Russo, the man Cashion trusted with his life, was holding my mother’s pearl necklace. The necklace she had worn in her casket four years ago.

Even without audio, I could see the fury radiating from Cashion. He pressed the barrel of his gun directly against Russo’s forehead.

"Eli, watch Leo," I said, my voice eerily calm.

"Are you crazy?" Eli grabbed my arm. "You can't go out there!"

"Open the door, Eli."

I didn't wait. I spun the locking wheel myself and pushed the heavy steel door open.

The smell of smoke and sulfur hit me instantly.

I stepped into the ruined living room just as Russo dropped to his knees, his hands raised in surrender.

"Don't shoot, Boss," Russo pleaded, his eyes wide with fear. "I didn't know she was Vivienne's target. I swear on my life."

Cashion didn't lower his weapon. He heard my footsteps and glanced back, his eyes flashing with protective anger. "I told you to stay in the room, Mara."

"Where did you get that?" I ignored Cashion, walking straight toward Russo. I pointed a trembling finger at the pearls dangling from Russo’s large hand.

Russo swallowed hard. "Vivienne gave it to me. She told me to leave it in the apartment. To send a message."

"A message about what?" Cashion demanded, pressing the gun harder.

"That she owns the past," Russo choked out. "Vivienne didn't just dig up Silas’s grave, Boss. She dug up the mother's grave, too. She wanted Mara to know there is nowhere she can hide."

A wave of nausea hit me so hard I stumbled.

My mother's grave. Defiled. By a woman I had never even met until tonight.

"Why you, Russo?" Cashion asked, his voice deadly quiet. "You've been with me for ten years. Why sell me out to my sister?"

"Because she has my daughter!" Russo cried, genuine tears spilling over his cheeks. "Vivienne kidnapped my little girl three days ago. She said if I didn't give her the codes to this safe house, I’d never see her again. I had no choice, Boss."

Reversal.

Russo wasn't a traitor out of greed. He was a desperate father. Just like Cashion. Just like me.

Cashion stared at the man on his knees.

The old Cashion—the ruthless syndicate boss—would have pulled the trigger without a second thought. Loyalty was absolute. Betrayal was death.

I held my breath, waiting for the gunshot.

But Cashion slowly lowered his weapon.

"Where is she holding your daughter, Russo?" Cashion asked.

Russo blinked, stunned that he was still alive. "The old shipping yard. Pier 41. She uses it as a staging ground."

"Get up," Cashion ordered, grabbing Russo by the collar and hauling him to his feet. "You're going to help me get her back. And then you are going to take your daughter and leave this city forever."

Russo nodded frantically. "Thank you, Boss. Thank you."

Cashion turned to me. He walked over, gently taking the pearl necklace from Russo’s hand and placing it into mine.

"I will make her pay for this, Mara. I promise you," he said softly.

I clutched the pearls tightly. "I know."

"I need to leave you here," Cashion continued, looking toward the panic room. "The reinforced doors will hold against a siege. There is enough food and water for a week. Do not open that door for anyone but me."

"I won't," I promised.

He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against my forehead, lingering for a moment, inhaling deeply as if memorizing my scent.

Then, he and Russo left.

I walked back into the panic room, locking the heavy steel door behind me.

Eli was sitting on the floor, bouncing a giggling Leo on his knee. He looked up at me, relief washing over his face. "Is it over?"

"Cashion went to handle it," I said, sitting heavily in a chair.

I looked down at the pearl necklace in my hands. The clasp was slightly broken.

As I ran my thumb over the pearls, seeking comfort, I noticed something strange. One of the pearls near the clasp wasn't smooth. It was jagged.

I pulled it closer to the harsh light of the panic room.

It wasn't a pearl.

It was a hollow, white plastic bead.

And tucked tightly inside the bead was a tiny, folded piece of paper.