Coming home three days early should have given me the advantage over the traitor inside my organization. Instead, I walked into my own fortified Chicago mansion, heard my seventeen-year-old daughter screaming behind a locked kitchen door, and found the quiet maid I barely noticed digging metal out of her bleeding leg while my youngest child—silent for three years—whispered, “Claire is fixing it.”

I raised my gun instantly, aiming it directly between Victor's eyes. Victor's men stepped out of the shadows, aiming half a dozen assault rifles at us. "Put the gun down, Vale," Claire ordered calmly, stepping directly between Victor and me. "Victor and I have an old arrangement." The Russian boss lowered his shotgun slightly, a sickening smile playing on his lips. "You saved my life in Chechnya, Claire," Victor acknowledged with a slight nod. "But bringing my biggest rival into my territory is testing my patience." I realized in that moment that my quiet maid was a former military operative. "I need a reinforced vehicle, weapons, and medical supplies," Claire demanded. Victor laughed, a booming sound that echoed through the empty warehouse. "What do I get in return for helping a dead man walking?" he asked, looking at me. "You get all of my territory south of the river," I offered without hesitation. My children were worth far more than a few city blocks. Victor's eyes lit up with absolute greed. He snapped his fingers, and his men began loading a black SUV with tactical bags. A medic rushed over to Ava, injecting her leg with strong painkillers and applying a fresh dressing. For a moment, I actually believed we were going to survive the night. Then, Victor's cell phone rang loudly. He answered it, speaking in rapid, hushed Russian for a few seconds. He hung up the phone and looked at me with cold, dead eyes. "Thomas just offered me the entire city if I hand you over right now," Victor announced. His men raised their rifles again.