MasukSHANE'S POV:Henrique stumbled backward, his expensive shoes scuffling against plush carpet. Catching his balance against the wall, his chest heaved. For the first time, the mask of the untouchable Don had cracked, shattering into a thousand pieces on my office floor.For several long moments, the only sound was the hard sound of our breathing.Caleb stood beside the door, his hand still near his holster.Henrique looked at me. There was nothing in his eyes now of the pomposity of a crime lord. He stared at me with the wearied clouded eyes of an old man who had met a wall he couldn't bully his way through.He stooped, with audible cracking in the joints, and reached for his cane. He dusted it off with a shaking hand."You have fire," Henrique breathed. The venom was gone from his voice now, his words low and gravelly. "I haven't seen fire like that since… since I was your age.""This is about boundaries,” I said, straightening my suit jacket, and my heart was still hammering a war dru
SHANE’S POVSilence lay thick between us, tensed to the breaking point like a wire about to snap. The air-conditioning hummed, the only sound in a room suddenly too small for the two egos crammed into it.Caleb followed him inside, closing the door soundlessly and standing with his back against it, a quiet guard. Henrique didn’t notice him, chatting with us as if we were meeting for a cup of tea.“You’ve done well for yourself,” Henrique said, gesturing with his cane toward the city below.“Respectable. It’s clean. Lucy always wanted a clean city.”“State your business,” I said. Even my words were monotone, devoid of any hooks for a conversational lifeline.Henrique pulled out the chair directly across from my desk. He didn’t even wait for permission to sit—just lowered himself into it with a deliberate slowness that belied a man who owned the space around him.“Cold,” Henrique pondered, placing his cane across his lap. “I like that,” he mused. “A man who runs an empire must be cold,”
SHANE’S POVThe air inside the house had altered. I watched Lucy run into our bedroom and heard the lock click shut behind her. Lucy is safe, and I can get my work done.I went to the window in the hall, making sure to conceal myself behind the thick curtains. I peered out through the slit.The black car remained, parked like a vulture patiently awaiting carrion.My phone vibrated with an incoming message. It was my head of security, Caleb.“Sir,” Caleb’s voice was tight with urgency, “we’ve got visuals on the car. There is only one vehicle and three persons inside. The registration is tied to a shell corporation in Nevada. It’s clean, but it definitely screams ‘professional.’”“Is he doing anything?” I asked.“Just sitting there. Watching the house.”“Let him watch,” I said, my jaw clenching with anger. “If he sets one foot on the property, you take him out. Do you understand? Lethal force is authorized.”“Yes, sir.”The car lingered for ten more minutes. Then, I opened the window an
LUCY'S POV“He's what? How?” Shane's calm yet confused voice threw the questions around.He noticed my shaken hands and touched them. “Talk to me, Lucy. What's his name?”My eyes met his and I hated my father again for showing up. He could have remained buried in jail for all eternity. “Henry Ludien. But he's known as Don Henrique.”Shane frowned, a confused look on his face. He recognized the name. All people in both the legitimate and illegitimate worlds knew the stories about the old family.“The drug kingpin?” Shane repeated, his voice perilously low. “The one who controlled the whole supply chain on the East Coast in the nineties?”“Yes,” I sobbed. “He has been in maximum-security federal prison for eighteen years. He was sentenced to life. I don’t understand how he is out. I don’t understand!”“Eighteen years,” Shane repeated, his mind racing. “He must have made a deal. Or someone called in a favor.”“He texted me,” I said, nodding toward my phone, which lay dead against the wal
LUCY’S POVMy bloodstream turned cold. The phone I was holding felt like an ice cube, burning my skin. The words on the phone screen refused to fade. The text sat there, pulsating eerily with ill intent, taunting my belief in my own security.I am coming to claim what's mine.The quiet in the living room had seemed peaceful before, but now it was oppressive. The darkness in the corners seemed to be growing and shifting.Another vibration.Unknown Number: Get on the third floor. Come to the balcony.I shouldn’t have gotten up. All the logic in the world was telling me to stay where I was, to call the police, to scream loudly enough for the guards. But fear, the puppet master, had other ideas. I stood up, my legs shaking so much I had to hold onto the side of the armchair.“Mommy?” Aria called in a small, faraway voice. “Where are you going?”I turned to look at them. My beautiful, innocent children sat under the soft blue glow of the television. They were safe there. “Stay here, baby,
LUCY'S POV"Again?" I laughed. "You had that two days ago."He nodded vigorously. "The one with the little corn inside."He meant the Chinese-style chicken stew I made sometimes, which was mild, savory, and had baby corn and potatoes in it. It was his absolute favorite."Okay," I said, standing up and picking him up. He wrapped his little legs around my waist. "Rice and chicken stew it is. But you have to help me.""I’lll help!" he cheered.We entered the kitchen. It was a large, modern kitchen with marble countertops, but at this moment it felt cozy. I set Ethan down on his special stool near the sink."First, we wash our hands," I said.He soaped up his hands, making way too many bubbles, but I just laughed and helped him rinse them.I took out the chicken from the fridge and started to chop up the vegetables."Can I wash the baby corn?" Ethan asked, reaching for the bag."Yes, but be gentle," I said, handing him a small colander.He was very serious about the job at hand. He washed







