The first thing Daniel Whitfield noticed was the blood on his maid’s hand.

The victory at the Drake was absolute, but as Daniel pressed his boot into Victor’s throat, a frantic vibration rattled in his pocket.

It was Marco’s encrypted comm.

Daniel answered it, keeping his foot pinned to Victor. “Report.”

A voice that was not Marco’s answered—strained, coughing, desperate. *“Boss... breach at the tower... Victor had a sleeper cell inside building maintenance... they didn't come to kill you... they came for the girl!”*

Daniel’s blood turned to liquid nitrogen.

He looked toward Naomi, whose face instantly blanched as she saw the change in his eyes.

“Sophie?” Naomi whispered, her voice trembling with sheer terror.

Daniel didn't answer. He leaned down, grabbed Victor Cole by his torn lapel, and dragged him up until their noses touched.

“Where did they take her?” Daniel whispered, his voice vibrating with demonic fury.

Victor, coughing blood, spat in Daniel’s face and laughed hoarsely. “The river warehouses... the old grain silos... where David burned! By the time you get there, Daniel, your little heir will be swimming with the carp!”

*BANG!*

Daniel fired a round through Victor’s shoulder, dropping him like a sack of stones. “Marco! Secure Victor! Alert all strike teams! Code Black!”

Naomi didn't wait for permission. She grabbed Daniel’s arm, her fingernails digging deep into his tailored sleeve. “Daniel, take me with you! Take me now!”

“Naomi, it’s going to be a bloodbath—”

“She is my daughter!” Naomi screamed, her eyes blazing with an animalistic fury that stunned even the hardened mobsters watching from the floor. “I don’t care about blood! I don’t care about death! Take me to my child!”

Daniel looked at her, saw the unyielding steel in her spirit, and nodded once.