Chapter 1

On my third day back in the Lakeshore District, my neighbor Lucia arrived with her injured daughter and had me summoned to the Blood Oath Hall.

She said my son Rocco had held a gun to Ella, forced her to hand over the port shift key, and burned her wrist with a red-hot family crest. By Lakeshore rules, whoever leaked the key owed a blood debt, and the guardian had to surrender the warehouse, the port charter, and three million dollars in damages.

What they did not know was that Rocco was not much of a talker, could not use a gun, and could never have forced a grown woman into an old elevator shaft.

I ran my thumb over the port badge on the table and slowly looked up. "Since you say you've seen him, bring Rocco in and identify him in person."

Twenty minutes later, the iron doors of the Blood Oath Hall swung open.

Everyone was waiting for a young man who would take the fall for me.

Lucia even tried to offer some friendly advice. "Vera, don't risk everything the Rossi family has left for the sake of one son."

But Rocco had never been human.

He was a two-year-old black Cane Corso.

On my third day back in the Lakeshore District, I was invited into the Blood Oath Hall.

In the Lakeshore District, an invitation usually ended one of two ways. Someone raised a glass to you, or someone forced you to smash that glass on the floor and made sure you never left the room.

The Blood Oath Hall lay beneath an abandoned church. There were no crosses on the walls, only twelve family crests set into black stone. The old men of the Commission sat at the far end of a round table polished brightly enough to reflect Lucia Viscari's tear-reddened face.

She cradled her daughter Ella as if Ella were a piece of porcelain someone had smashed.

"Vera," Lucia said first, her voice shaking, "you owe me an explanation."

Ella lifted her right hand. White gauze covered her wrist, with an angry red burn showing beneath the edge.

"Rocco forced me to hand over the port shift key," she said. "He took me to the old elevator shaft, pressed a gun against me, and forced me to activate the blood-oath order."

Someone at the round table drew in a sharp breath.

A shipment at the port had been intercepted, costing the Viscari family a fortune. By Lakeshore rules, whoever leaked the shift key carried the blood debt. Lucia had plainly come to throw that debt onto me.

"I'm asking for the Rossi family's Lakeshore warehouse to be frozen." She turned to Don Ferrini at the head of the table. "Vera must also pay three million dollars in damages and sign the port charter over to us."

I sat there and tapped a finger on the table.

"Your daughter says my son did this?"

Ella looked at me and the tears came at once.

"Rocco threatened me to my face. He said if I didn't hand over the key, he'd make sure my mother and I left the Lakeshore for good."

Lucia slammed the table. "You're still going to cover for him?"

I did not answer.

The room took my silence for guilt. A few of the old men traded looks, as if the Rossi port charter had already been cut into twelve pieces and was waiting to be served onto their plates.

But I was thinking back to three days earlier.

That day Lucia had come over on her own to help me carry boxes. She was all warmth, asking how the years had treated me, asking whether I had come back alone. I said not exactly alone. I had a son. He had just turned two.

She paused, then smiled even wider. "How nice. Ella's reached the age when she could use someone to look after her, too."

That same night, she showed up at my door with Ella, whose wrist was injured. She wanted compensation, the port charter, and for me to answer for what my "son" had done.

They thought I would be frightened.

I looked at Lucia and kept my voice flat. "Rocco couldn't have done this."

"Why couldn't he?" she demanded.

I lifted my gaze.

"Because you have no idea what my son is."

The hall fell silent for a beat. Don Ferrini tapped the blackwood table. "Since the two sides disagree, continue presenting your cases. Vera, you'd better produce enough evidence before the night is over."

Rocco would come, of course.

It was just that when he walked through that door, the look on every face in the room would be worth seeing.