Chapter 4

I paused on the threshold, right where the howling wind met the doorframe. I turned and looked at Gideon.

I smiled.

"Gideon, you've got guts now. Then keep your eyes open and see who throws who into the lake."

I stepped out into the blizzard without looking back.

Eight o'clock the next night. A private club in the city center.

Tonight was an invitation-only gala for the heads of the Five Families. Armed guards lined the street. Security was tight as a vault. But when I pressed my thumb against the glass pad at the heavy front doors, the scanner blinked green.

My master clearance was hardwired into the system years ago. Nobody could touch it. Not unless the old bastards who built this town with me signed off together.

I walked straight down the long hall.

The hall was thick with alcohol, jazz music mixing with the smell of cigar smoke.

Bosses and captains from across the city stood around the central tables, drinks in hand, laughing and talking business.

The second I walked into the light, the room froze.

The violin bow stopped dead. The whispers died. Dozens of cold, calculating eyes locked right onto my face.

"Camilla?"

The old Gambino boss narrowed his eyes. He swirled the amber whiskey in his lowball glass. "Word on the street says the Calabrias turned traitor. Eighty million at the bottom of the lake. And you've got a bounty on your head."

I didn't answer him. I walked straight up to the DJ booth.

The DJ backed away in terror. I reached down and ripped out the main audio cable. A piercing electronic screech tore through the club.

Before anyone could shout, I shoved my encrypted drive into the master USB slot.

The twelve-foot screen behind the main bar flickered twice. Then it flared to life, cold and bright.

Dead silence fell over the room.

Then a man's voice, drunk and arrogant, blasted through every speaker:

"...Thirty million. That's my debt on the cage fights. Clear the marker, and the Black Siren is yours. One-thirty sharp at the lake mouth. Outer lane. The radar goes blind for ten minutes. You take the shipment. You keep the sixty-million short. Just make sure the cartel leaves my clubs alone!"

Silas. Clear as day.

A second later, the screen flooded with documents.

Offshore ghost accounts. The system logs where my private key had been forged. The routing jump points originating straight from the private server on Alessia's desk. Page after page, pinned under the bright lights.

"You're all here to collect an eighty-million-dollar debt," I said, looking out at the room. My voice didn't shake. "I didn't sell out the Five Families. The new Calabria Don did. Him and his little lapdogs. Every name, every offshore account, every drop of blood money is right there on that screen."

I reached up and unpinned the solid gold crest from my lapel.

The symbol of the Calabria family head.

I tossed it into the top of the champagne tower. It sank straight to the bottom of the glass.

"By the old laws, rats don't get a trial. The whole city hunts them down. As of tonight, I'm out. The Calabria house is yours to burn."

I turned on my heel and headed for the doors.

The room erupted into chaos behind me.

"They sold the route to South America and tried to pin it on her?!"

"Those Calabria bastards have lost their minds!"

The older Dons didn't shout. Their faces went hard as slate. In this city, nobody gave a damn about contraband. But selling out the alliance to a rival cartel was treason.

My phone started buzzing violently in my coat pocket.

I pulled it out and tapped the screen.

"Camilla! Have you lost your damn mind?!" Gideon screamed, his voice cracking on the line. "You put our books on the big screen! Every crew in this city is outside our gates! Alessia collapsed in her office! You just burned this whole family to the ground!"

"I didn't burn it," I said coldly. "Your own greed did."

"Don't you dare hang up on me! You—"

I killed the call. Then I blocked Gideon, Silas, and Alessia in three clean taps.

The underground parking garage was cold and empty. My heels echoed against the damp concrete as I walked toward my armored sedan.

A tall figure stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, cutting off my path to the car door.

The light caught the gold rims of his glasses, hiding his eyes.

Julian Vance. The lead attorney for the High Commission.

"Good evening, Camilla," Julian said. He pushed up his glasses, a clean, corporate smirk playing on his lips. "Hell of a show back there. But I think you celebrated a little too early."

I stopped. "Move, Julian."

"Not so fast." Julian reached into his breast pocket and produced a folded document stamped with the Commission's black wax seal. "The black box audio and the private bank trails you just paraded up there... you intercepted a secured cartel frequency to get them. Under the blood treaty of the Five Families, tapping an alliance shipment line is an act of war. It carries an automatic death sentence."

He took one step closer, his eyes cold and predatory.

"Lady, no matter how clean your hands are, you broke the rules. You're not walking off this street tonight."