While the New York underworld was still recovering from the shock of the Solstice Gala, Larkin and I spent forty-eight continuous hours locked behind soundproof glass doors, going through every single account, shell corporation, and illicit asset tied to the Steves syndicate.

By Sunday morning, the sprawling mahogany desk was covered in printed bank statements, highlighted wire transfers, and handwritten notes.

“Thomas has been moving money through a dummy corporation registered in the Cayman Islands,” I said, tapping my pen against a highlighted line of code. “Viper Logistics. It’s a front for a rival syndicate run by the Moretti family out of Little Italy. He’s been selling our shipping routes to them piece by piece in exchange for gambling debt relief.”

Larkin stood behind my chair, resting his hands on the high back of the leather seat. His fingers brushed against my shoulders, the heat of his touch sending a sudden jolt through my nervous system.

“I knew he was skimming,” Larkin said, his voice cold as ice. “I didn't know he was selling us out to the Morettis.”

“He didn't think anyone was paying attention,” I said, looking up at him over my shoulder. “Because everyone in this family is so used to treating the bookkeeping department like background noise. They thought the numbers were just ink on paper. They didn't realize numbers tell a story.”

“And what story are you telling, Penelope?” Larkin asked, his face inches from mine, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe.

“A tragedy for your cousin,” I whispered. “And a promotion for me.”

Before Larkin could answer, the heavy double doors of the office flew open with a deafening crash.

Thomas stood in the doorway, his face flushed, his eyes wild and bloodshot, holding a heavy-caliber Beretta pistol pointed directly at my chest.

“You think you’re so smart, don't you?” Thomas screamed, his voice cracking with unhinged rage. “You think because you put on a fancy dress and threatened me at the gala, you can steal my family’s empire? I’m going to put a bullet through your head right now, and then I’m going to clean out the accounts myself!”

Time seemed to slow down.

I didn't scream. I didn't drop to the floor. Years of surviving crushing student debt, working toxic jobs, and navigating a world run by violent men had hardened my nerves into steel.

As Thomas pulled back the hammer of the gun, Larkin moved with terrifying, blinding speed.

In a single, violent motion, Larkin vaulted over the desk, slamming his entire weight into Thomas’s chest. The two men crashed hard against the glass wall, shattering a decorative display case into a thousand glittering shards. The pistol flew out of Thomas’s hand, skidding across the polished hardwood floor and stopping right near my stiletto heels.

I reached down slowly, picked up the heavy firearm, and clicked the safety off with a sharp, metallic click.