Chapter 1

Five years ago, I left New York and made a name for myself in the Swiss underworld.

Now I'm back for one reason: to bring my daughter, Sonia Blackwood, home.

But the name on the family estate isn't mine.

Someone else's.

I stop the first man I see.

"You know where Sonia Blackwood is?"

His face twists like he's smelled something rotten.

"Her? That bitch tried to steal Miss Sutton's diamond bracelet. They stripped her and dumped her in the basement. She's still down there.

Everything inside me goes cold.

My daughter.

They threw my daughter into a basement.

The next second, I draw my gun and press the barrel against his forehead.

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The Blackwood name wasn't just a name. It was mine.

I built this family from the ground up. Before I left, I made Vincent my underboss.

I personally chose every one of those capos and put them where they are.

And now some little brat named Sutton had her name on my door?

Sonia would never steal. My girl wouldn't lift a nickel off the floor.

And even if she did? Nobody—nobody—lays a hand on my daughter.

Two goons were posted at the basement door. Big guys. Cheap suits.

"Hold it right there. Vincent's orders. Nobody goes down."

They didn't know who I was. I looked ordinary. My clothes were nothing special. To them, I was just another middle-aged woman.

The gun under my coat felt hot now.

"Move."

They laughed. Actually laughed.

"Another one? What, you owe Sonia money too?"

"Listen up, sweetheart. That trash pissed off Miss Sutton. Pissing off Miss Sutton is pissing off the whole Family. Not even the Pope himself could save her ass."

"So walk the hell away. Or you'll end up like him."

He nodded toward the corner.

There was a man there. Or what was left of one.

Skinny as a rail, hair in his face, curled up on the concrete. Chain around his neck. Both arms and both legs bent the wrong way. He was breathing, barely.

I walk over. He lifts his head like it weighs a hundred pounds.

"Get out of here…" His voice is cracked and wet. "They've got the place wired. Cameras everywhere. Just you and me—we can't get her out…"

He was beaten to a pulp trying to save my daughter.

Something inside me snapped.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small bottle—the good stuff, prescription-grade painkillers plus something my old doctor cooked up just for me. I slipped one into his mouth.

The two goons saw the pill bottle. Their eyes lit up.

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