Chapter 2

One of them lunged.

He grabbed my wrist. Hard.

"Well, well. You're wasting meds on this dead man walking?That's a direct order you're breaking, sweetheart."

"Hand it over. Now. Or I'll break your goddamn arm."

In our world, it's dog-eat-dog. I get it. I invented half the rules.

But before I left, I laid down one law for the Blackwood family: Nobody robs their own. Nobody kills family. You break it, you die.

Guess that memo got tossed in the trash.

I looked up at both of them. Calm as a Sunday morning.

"Family rule. No one steals from their own. Never heard that one?"

They looked at each other and cracked up.

"Are you kidding me, lady? Nobody remembers that garbage anymore."

"So what happens if I don't hand it over?" I asked.

"Then I cut your pretty throat and take it."

They were still laughing when I sighed.

Then I drew my Beretta and slashed each man's throat with the blade in my other hand.

They stared at me. Blood seeped between their fingers. They choked out one last sentence.

"You're insane… we're… Mira Sutton's guys…"

I smiled. Nothing behind my eyes.

"So?"

Blood sprayed all over the hem of my coat. Didn't care. I shoved the pill in the beat-up kid's mouth and moved on.

I could already feel the healing taking hold. Whatever my doctor put in those pills, it was worth every penny.

He grabbed the wall and dragged himself upright.

"You just killed them. Mira's gonna burn this city down looking for you."

I heard the cold in my own voice.

"Good. I want her to try."

I walked to the basement door, released a hidden lock only I knew about, and the entire steel door swung open.

The kid — Gavin, I'd learn later — stood there with his jaw on the floor.

Then he shuffled after me, careful, like I might turn around and shoot him too.

The stairwell smelled of mildew, blood, and something worse.

Please. Please let her be alive.

I scanned every corner, listening for any sign of movement. And then I found her. Back wall. Steel cage bolted to the floor.

Before I left New York, my Sonia was already a soldier in her own right.

Sharp. Beautiful. Five-eleven and dangerous.

Now?

She was curled up in that cage like a broken doll. Face gaunt. Hair gray. She looked like she'd aged twenty years.

There was a deep wound in her abdomen.

Someone had cut out the family pendant beneath her skin—a small piece of gold with our blood sealed inside it, worth more than the whole building.

Her hands were swollen and bruised. One knee was badly damaged.

If I hadn't spent a fortune on her medical treatment when she was a kid, she'd already be in a coffin.

My mind went blank. Then the rage took over.

I'm going to burn this Family to the ground. I'm going to bury every last one of them.

I steadied my shaking hands and lifted her out.

She weighed nothing.

That's when I heard the voice at the top of the stairs. Sweet. Sing-song. Sick.

"Oh my God! Who did this? My boys — my boys are dead!"

Then a man's voice, furious:

"Somebody came for the bitch! Somebody disobeyed the boss's orders!"

Gavin went sheet-white.

"Ma'am — what do we do? They're never letting us walk her out of here."

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