“Oh my God. Who did this to you?” Elena’s voice cracked as the flashlight trembled in her hand.

Pier 4 was an abandoned industrial shipyard stretching out into the dark, freezing waters of Boston Harbor. Rusted shipping containers, towering gantry cranes, and abandoned warehouses loomed like giant iron skeletons against the foggy night sky.

At 11:45 p.m., Elena’s Honda Civic pulled through the rusted gates of the shipyard, its headlights cutting through the swirling mist.

Elena sat behind the wheel, her hands gripping the leather cover so tight her fingers were numb. In the passenger seat sat Dominic, wearing a dark wool coat over his bandage, his right hand resting on the Glock hidden in his coat pocket.

"Remember the plan," Dominic said quietly as the car coasted to a stop near the center of the docks, illuminated by two giant halogen work lights mounted on a shipping container. "Keep your eyes on Noah. The moment you see an opening, take him and run for the steel office building behind us."

"And you?" Elena asked, her voice trembling.

Dominic offered her a small, tight smile. "I’m going to settle a family debt."

In the center of the illuminated staging area stood Marcus Crane, flanked by four heavily armed guards in black tactical gear. Standing beside Marcus, holding a guard’s hand, was Noah.

The six-year-old boy looked terrified, his small eyes wide as he searched the darkness. When he saw Elena’s car, he gasped.

"Mommy!" Noah cried out, trying to pull away.

The guard held his shoulder firmly, keeping him in place.

Elena felt a wave of maternal rage surge through her blood, burning away every trace of fear. She opened the car door and stepped out into the freezing wind, followed closely by Dominic.

Marcus stepped forward, a triumphant, arrogant smirk spread across his handsome face.

"Look at this," Marcus mocked, clapping his hands together slowly. "The prodigal patriarch returns, escorted by his loyal maid. You look terrible, Dominic."

"Let the boy go, Marcus," Dominic said, his deep voice carrying easily across the open pier. "You have me. He has nothing to do with this."

Marcus gestured to one of his guards. The man roughly shoved Noah forward.

"Go to your mother, kid," Marcus sneered.

Noah sprinted across the concrete, sobbing as he threw his arms around Elena’s waist. Elena dropped to her knees, gathering her son into a desperate, ferocious hug, kissing his forehead and checking his arms for injuries.

"Are you okay, baby? Did they hurt you?" Elena whispered frantically.

"I'm okay, Mommy," Noah sobbed into her neck. "I was scared."

"Go to the steel building behind the car, Noah," Elena whispered, pointing toward the dark structure thirty yards away. "Run inside and don't come out until I call you. Go!"

Noah nodded quickly and ran as fast as his small legs could carry him into the dark shadows of the office building.

Marcus watched the boy leave, unconcerned. He pulled a silver tablet computer from his coat and held it out toward Dominic.

"Now, brother," Marcus said, his tone dropping into icy command. "Press your thumb against the optical scanner on this tablet. Transfer the holding accounts to my primary shell company. Do it, and I’ll let you and your maid walk away."

Dominic stepped forward, standing ten feet from Marcus. The wind whipped his dark coat around his boots.

"You really are an idiot, Marcus," Dominic said softly. "You think after thirty years of watching you lie, cheat, and steal, I’d give you the keys to our father's empire?"

Marcus’s smirk vanished. His face darkened with rage. "I have four armed men here, Dominic! You have a dead-end maid and a single pistol! You don't have a choice!"

"I always have a choice," Dominic replied calmly.