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

My blood turned to ice.

Vivienne stood there in a flawless white trench coat, completely untouched by the violence tearing apart the building below us. She smiled, a cold, empty expression that didn't reach her eyes.

She tossed the wooden block onto the floor. It clattered against the concrete, stopping at my feet.

It was the same block Leo had been holding in the closet earlier tonight.

"I have men cutting through the panic room door with a thermal torch as we speak," Vivienne said smoothly. "Your brother is brave, but he won't last long against a thousand degrees."

"Don't touch my son," I growled, my hand tightening around the red fire suppression handle.

"I have no interest in the bastard child, Mara," she sighed, checking her perfect manicure. "I only want what you stole from me. The ledger. Give me the location, and I’ll call off the torch."

"If I give it to you, you'll kill us anyway," I said, staring at her gun.

"Perhaps," Vivienne conceded easily. "But if you don't give it to me, I’ll let you listen to your brother and your son scream."

Reversal.

She wasn't bluffing. I had nowhere left to run.

"Okay," I said, my voice shaking perfectly, feigning total defeat. I let my shoulders drop. "I'll tell you."

Vivienne smiled triumphantly. "Smart girl. Where is it?"

"I didn't hide it in a bank," I said, taking a slow, tiny step away from the fire handle. "I hid it somewhere no one would ever look. In plain sight."

"Where?" she demanded, stepping closer.

"In the lining," I whispered.

"The lining of what?"

I looked her dead in the eyes.

"The lining of my mother's casket."

Vivienne froze.

For the first time, her perfect composure cracked. Her eyes widened in horrifying realization.

"You put it in the coffin?"

"Three years ago," I said. "Right before they buried her. That’s why you couldn't find it. But you just dug her up tonight, didn't you, Vivienne? You had her exhumed to steal her necklace to taunt me. And you left the ledger sitting in the dirt."

Vivienne’s face twisted in pure rage. She realized she had held the key to her entire empire in her hands tonight and tossed it aside for a petty psychological trick.

"You bitch," she hissed, raising the gun.

"Halon gas," I said loudly, "takes oxygen out of the air."

Before she could process the words, I lunged backward and yanked the red fire suppression handle down with all my weight.

Sirens screamed instantly.

Above us, the massive overhead pipes hissed violently.

Thick, blinding white halon gas deployed through the vents, instantly flooding the room and the entire building below.

Vivienne fired blindly, the bullet grazing my shoulder.

Pain flared white-hot, but adrenaline swallowed it.

I dropped to the floor, where the oxygen was heaviest, and crawled desperately toward the service stairwell.

Through the thick, suffocating fog, I heard Vivienne coughing violently, her high heels stumbling on the concrete.

I reached the heavy metal door, pushed it open, and threw myself into the stairwell. I slammed it shut, sealing her in the gas-filled corridor.

I clutched my bleeding shoulder, gasping for clean air, and ran down the stairs toward the garage.

When I burst through the doors into the parking level, the scene was pure chaos. The halon gas had completely blinded Vivienne’s hit squad. Men were coughing, stumbling, and dropping their weapons.

Cashion and Russo had capitalized on the distraction.

They moved through the fog like shadows, disarming and incapacitating the blinded men with brutal efficiency.

"Cashion!" I yelled through the mist.

He spun around, his gun raised, but lowered it instantly when he saw me. He sprinted through the fog, grabbing me by the waist.

"You're bleeding!" he roared, seeing the blood soaking my sleeve.

"It's just a graze," I gasped, leaning into his solid chest. "Vivienne is upstairs. She sent men to the panic room with a thermal torch."

Cashion’s face turned into a mask of pure, lethal fury.

"Russo!" Cashion yelled. "Secure a vehicle! We are leaving!"

He didn't wait. He threw me over his good shoulder like I weighed nothing and sprinted back up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

We reached the penthouse level. The hallway was thick with smoke.

Through the haze, I saw the bright, blinding blue spark of a thermal torch cutting through the heavy steel hinges of the panic room.

Two men were standing outside the door.

Cashion didn't hesitate. He dropped me gently to the floor, stepped out of the stairwell, and fired two precise shots.

Both men dropped before they even knew he was there.

Cashion walked over to the half-melted door and spun the locking wheel.

It groaned open.

Inside, Eli was huddled in the corner, shielding Leo with his own body.

"We're clear," Cashion said, his voice instantly softening.

Eli looked up, weeping with relief. He handed Leo to Cashion.

Cashion took his son, holding him tight against his chest. Leo wrapped his tiny arms around Cashion’s thick neck, burying his face in his father’s shoulder.

"I got you, little man," Cashion whispered, kissing the boy's head.

We rushed back to the garage. Russo had a pristine black armored SUV idling, the back doors wide open.

As we climbed in, Cashion looked at me, his dark eyes filled with absolute determination.

"Vivienne knows about the ledger," I told him, pressing a cloth to my bleeding shoulder. "She knows it's at the cemetery."