The sharp, biting crack of the thin leather riding crop echoed like a gunshot through the vaulted ballroom of Sterling Manor, instantly knocking the silver serving tray from my hands.

"Stay behind me," Dominic ordered, racking the slide of his weapon with a sharp, metallic click.

"I don't need a babysitter, Sterling," I hissed, scanning the room for anything resembling a weapon. My heart was pounding like a war drum, but the terror I had felt ten years ago in Lake Forest didn't paralyze me. It turned into ice-cold clarity.

I grabbed a heavy brass paperweight from the oak desk and tucked a six-inch steel letter opener into the sleeve of my apron.

"Feisty," Dominic muttered, his eyes raking over me with something bordering on raw admiration. "Just stay low. If a round hits these concrete walls, the ricochet will tear you apart."

The door at the end of the corridor blew open with a violent blast of smoke and splinters. Two men dressed in black tactical gear breached the threshold, their carbines raised.

Dominic didn't hesitate. He leaned out from the frame of the archive room and fired three controlled double-taps. The concussive blasts in the enclosed space were deafening. The first man dropped instantly, clutching his chest; the second stumbled backward, blood spraying against the red brick before he collapsed.

"Vance mercenaries," Dominic said, stepping out into the hallway to check the bodies. "Contract killers from Chicago. They aren't trying to capture you, Elena. They were sent to eliminate both of us and stage it as a syndicate dispute."

"Cassandra," I said, the venom dripping from my words. "She knew you would defend me once you saw the locket. She used tonight’s gala to position her father’s hit team inside the perimeter."

"Clever girl," a sultry, mocking voice echoed down the concrete stairs.

Cassandra Vance descended the steps, holding a nickel-plated semi-automatic pistol in her right hand. Her designer black gown was splattered with mud at the hem, and her face was twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred. Behind her stood three more heavily armed mercenaries.

"I have to admit, Elena," Cassandra purred, keeping her weapon trained on Dominic's chest. "You played the humble maid remarkably well. All those mornings scrubbing my bathroom tiles, listening to me talk about marrying Dominic... did it make you sick to know that a real lady was taking what belonged to you?"

"A real lady doesn't need a riding crop to feel powerful, Cassandra," I retorted, stepping out from behind Dominic so she could see me clearly. "And she certainly doesn't need to beg a man to love her while hiring cheap hitmen to force the issue."

Cassandra’s eyes flared with rage. "You fat, pathetic cockroach! You should have burned with your father! When my father takes over the Eastern ports tonight, your precious bloodline will finally be erased from history."

"Cassandra," Dominic warned, his voice dropped to an icy register that made the mercenaries shift uncomfortably. "Lower the weapon. You walk out of here alive only if you drop it right now."

"You chose a servant over me!" she screamed, her finger tightening on the trigger. "Kill them both!"

The hallway erupted into chaos.

Dominic tackled me to the ground just as a volley of bullets chewed through the wooden doorframe above our heads, showering us with debris. We rolled behind an industrial steel support pillar. Dominic returned fire blind around the corner, his shots forcing the mercenaries to take cover.

"The ventilation duct behind the records room," Dominic breathed, his chest heaving against mine as he shielded my body with his own. "It leads to the garage. You run. I'll cover you."

"I am not running," I snapped, grabbing his tactical vest to pull his face down to mine. "You're out of ammunition on that magazine, Dominic! You have three rounds left, and there are three of them!"

He blinked, glancing at his slide. I had counted the shots.

"What do you propose, your highness?" he asked, a fierce, wicked grin breaking across his rugged face despite the gunfire tearing the room apart.