Three bullets tore through me because I threw myself between a gunman and the six-year-old son of New York’s most feared crime boss.

The interior of Pier 42 smelled of saltwater, rotting timber, and diesel oil.

I stepped into the center of the cavernous warehouse, my boots splashing softly in the shallow puddle of seawater. The single overhead floodlight illuminated a bright yellow shipping container suspended ten feet above the concrete floor by a rusted winch cable.

Inside the container's reinforced window, Caleb was strapped into a chair, his mouth taped, eyes wide with terror as he spotted me.

"Evie, Evie, Evie," Julian's voice echoed through the PA system, mocking and triumphant.

From the top of the shipping container, Julian stepped forward. His right arm was in a tactical sling from my bullet, but his left hand held a remote detonator. Around the base of the container, clusters of C4 were strapped to the support beams.

"You brought no guards. How sentimental," Julian sneered, pacing the edge of the container roof. "Where is your billionaire protector? Did he run when he realized what kind of monster you really are?"

"Dominic is ten times the man you could ever dream of being, Julian," I said loudly, stepping directly beneath the floodlight to draw his total focus. "Let the boy go. You want the ledger? You want the access codes to the offshore accounts? I have them here."

I pulled a titanium USB drive from my vest pocket, holding it up into the light. "Fifty million dollars and the syndicate’s biometric database. Take it and let Caleb walk."

Julian’s eyes gleamed with greed. "Toss it on the crate."

I threw the drive. As Julian leaned forward to watch it land, a single suppressed bullet whipped through the air from the high rafter beam above.

Thwack!

The shot severed the remote detonator in Julian’s hand, destroying the firing pin instantly.

"Sniper!" Julian screamed, diving for cover as Dominic opened fire with his MPX, raining high-velocity lead onto the mercenary squad stationed on the catwalks.

The warehouse erupted into chaotic warfare.

Mercenaries poured from behind shipping crates. I drew both Glocks, moving in a deadly rhythm of suppression and execution. Every shot was lethal precision—two center mass, one head. Pain exploded in my healing ribs with every recoil, but adrenaline washed it away in a tsunami of rage.

Dominic leapt from the rafter stairs, landing heavily on the container roof, engaging Julian in a ferocious hand-to-hand grapple.

"Get Caleb!" Dominic roared over the gunfire.

I sprinted toward the winch controls. Two syndicate gunmen charged my position. I slid across the wet concrete beneath their line of fire, firing upward into their torsos, kicking the emergency release lever on the hydraulic winch.

The container descended rapidly, locking onto the ground with a deafening metallic clang.

I kicked the container doors open, drew my blade, and sliced Caleb’s ropes.

"Mara!" Caleb threw his arms around my neck, sobbing hysterically.

"I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you," I kissed his temple, thrusting him behind a steel bulkhead. "Stay down and cover your ears!"

A blood-curdling scream echoed from above. Dominic and Julian tumbled over the container edge, crashing onto the wooden decking below.