Jackson's POV The address Bianca had sent me led to a modest house on the outskirts of the city. Nothing like the extravagant properties I was accustomed to, but then again, my younger daughter had never been one for subtlety or good taste. I parked my car and walked up the path, my footsteps echoing against the concrete. She opened the door before I could knock, her expression a mixture of defiance and desperation. I stepped inside, taking in the sparse furnishings, the drawn curtains, the suffocating stillness of a place that felt more like a cage than a home. And then I saw it. The tracker wrapped around her ankle, blinking faintly in the dim light. "What in God's name have you gotten yourself into?" I demanded, my voice sharp. She led me to the living room, sinking onto a worn couch. I remained standing, my arms crossed, my glare fixed on her. She explained everything about the drug lord, the debt, the threats and then she mentioned Nikolai. "He's the one who put this on me,
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