Alexei Petrov didn't flinch. Even with the deafening ringing in his ears from the flashbangs, he stood tall in front of Maria and Sophie, his Beretta locked dead on Viktor Vance’s chest.

“Viktor,” Alexei’s voice cut through the room like a razor blade. “You always were a disappointment. Mom should have dropped you down the well.”

Viktor sneered, his grip tightening on his rifle. “Your time is up, cousin. The Detroit board voted yesterday. With you dead, and your precious little restaurant and real estate empire leaderless, Petrov Logistics belongs to me.”

“And Maria belongs to me,” Carlos chimed in, taking a menacing step forward, a heavy revolver gripped in his right hand. He looked down at Maria with pure, venomous hatred. “Get up, you ungrateful bitch. You thought you could run away to Chicago and hide behind rich men? I’m going to take you back to Miami and teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

“Take another step,” Alexei said, his voice dropping into a lethal, hypnotic whisper, “and I will scatter your brains across this Persian rug before your finger touches that trigger.”

Carlos laughed, raising his revolver. “You’re outnumbered, Petrov. Drop the gun!”

What Carlos didn't know—what none of them knew—was that Dmitri Volkov and twenty of the most lethal security operatives in Illinois had just breached the rear stairwell.

A sharp, clicking sound echoed from the dark hallway behind Viktor and his mercenaries.

“Drop your weapons. Now,” Dmitri’s voice rang out, cold as winter ice, accompanied by the distinct sound of two dozen laser sights painting red dots across the backs of the intruders.

Viktor’s eyes widened in sudden panic. “What the—”

Before Viktor could turn around, Alexei moved with blinding, terrifying speed. He fired twice—bang, bang—shooting the asNextlt rifle right out of Viktor’s hands, sending metal shrapnel flying. At the same time, Dmitri and the security team opened fire, neutralizing Viktor’s three mercenaries in a lightning-fast flurry of controlled tactical shots.

The three gunmen dropped instantly, their weapons clattering against the floor.

Carlos froze, his face turning pale as chalk. He slowly lowered his revolver, looking frantically around the room at the circle of armed men closing in on him.

“No... no, wait!” Carlos stammered, raising his hands. “I was just—Viktor made me do it, he said—”

Before Carlos could finish his sentence, Maria stood up from the floor.

She wasn't shaking anymore. The terror that had paralyzed her for six years had burned away, replaced by an ice-cold fury. She reached down, picked up Sophie’s plastic stethoscope from where it had fallen near the desk, and then reached into the waistband of her apron where she had tucked a heavy brass paperweight she grabbed from the desk during the chaos.

“Maria, stay back,” Alexei warned softly.

“No,” Maria said, her voice steady and absolute.

She walked past Alexei, stopping two feet away from her ex-husband. Carlos sneered, thinking she was still the terrified girl he used to beat in Miami.

“What are you going to do, Maria? Hit me with a toy?” Carlos mocked, stepping forward.

Maria didn't hesitate. With all the pent-up rage of six years of running, hiding, and living in terror, she swung the heavy brass paperweight with a devastating backhand arc, catching Carlos squarely across the jaw.

The sickening crunch of breaking teeth echoed through the room. Carlos dropped like a stone, tumbling backward onto the floor, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Maria stood over him, breathing heavily, clutching the plastic stethoscope in her left hand.

Silence descended upon the ruined parlor once again.

Alexei slowly walked up behind her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. He looked down at Carlos, then over at Viktor, who was kneeling on the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back by Dmitri’s men.

“Dmitri,” Alexei commanded coldly. “Take Viktor to the basement holding cells. As for Carlos... dump him in Lake Michigan. Let the fish decide if he’s worth saving.”

“Right away, boss,” Dmitri nodded, hauling Viktor to his feet.

As the guards cleared the room, carrying the unconscious men away, Maria let out a long, shuddering breath. The adrenaline drained from her body, leaving her knees weak.

Alexei caught her before she could sway, pulling her gently against his chest.

“You okay?” he murmured against her hair.

“I am,” Maria whispered, a shaky, exhausted smile touching her lips. “I really am.”