The silence that settled over the ruined playroom was heavier than the gunfire that had threatened to tear it apart moments before.

The rain had turned into a downpour by the time the matte-black SUV pulled into the shadows behind the abandoned meatpacking plant on Pier 42. Cold Atlantic wind whipped off the harbor, carrying the stench of salt, rust, and rotting fish.

Inside the SUV, Evelyn stripped off her velvet dress and pulled on a set of dark tactical gear provided by Viktor. The Kevlar vest was snug across her heavy chest, and the utility belt settled snugly over her thick hips.

Viktor, sitting in the front passenger seat, checked his suppressed MP5 before turning to look at her in the rearview mirror. His expression was a mix of skepticism and reluctant respect.

"You really think you can do this, nanny?" Viktor asked, racking the bolt of his submachine gun. "These aren't half-trained thugs like the ones in the playroom. Sergei’s crew are former Spetsnaz."

"Spetsnaz are taught to rely on momentum and military geometry," Evelyn said, adjusting the tactical straps around her thighs. She secured a heavy-duty stun baton to her left belt loop and loaded a modified SIG P322 into her holster. "They expect targets to retreat or freeze. They don't know how to handle an opponent who uses mass as a blunt force weapon."

"She's right," Viktor muttered to the driver. "I saw what she did to the big guy upstairs. She broke his elbow like a dry twig."

Evelyn checked the tactical ear-piece. "Damien, do you read me?"

“Loud and clear,” Damien’s deep voice echoed through her ear, sharp and steady. He was back in his study, manually severing the server cables to cut off the worm. “The mainframe is locked down. You have fifteen minutes before Sergei realizes the data stream has stopped. Once he knows he lost the keys, the girl becomes useless to him.”

"Understood," Evelyn said. "Viktor, you take the rear loading dock. Cut the primary power lines to the building when I give the signal. I want them blind."

"And you?" Viktor asked.

"I'm taking the front door," Evelyn said.

"The front door has three armed guards!" Viktor exclaimed.

"Which means they're looking outward," Evelyn replied coolly. "Not down."

She stepped out into the freezing rain. Her heavy boots splashed through oily puddles as she skirted the perimeter of the decaying building. Through a cracked, mud-smeared window, she spotted Marcus’s daughter—a young woman around twenty-two, zip-tied to a steel chair in the center of the concrete room. Standing over her were four men in heavy winter coats, armed with assault rifles.

Sergei was sitting on a wooden crate, smoking a cigarette, checking a digital timer on his phone.

"Damien," Evelyn whispered into her comms. "I have visual on the hostage. Four tangos inside. Two more on the roof."

“Wait for backup, Evelyn,” Damien warned, his tone dropping an octave. “Viktor isn't in position yet.”

"No time," Evelyn said, watching Sergei flick his thumb to unlock his sidearm. "He's getting impatient."

She didn't use the door handle.

Evelyn stepped back three paces, drew a deep breath, and drove her full size-eighteen frame straight into the reinforced plywood door next to the frame.

Her heavy shoulders and solid hips struck the structure with the impact of a battering ram. The rotten wood split down the center with a sound like a grenade going off, and Evelyn burst through the dust and splintered timber into the middle of the room.

Before the nearest guard could raise his weapon, she closed the gap. She didn't try a high kick or a flashy spin. She dropped her weight, drove her heavy shoulder straight into his sternum, and slammed him into the concrete floor. The air left his lungs in a sickening gasp, and his rifle clattered away across the slick floor.

"Power out, Viktor! Now!" she yelled into her mic.

The entire facility plunged into darkness just as Sergei shouted an order in Russian.

Muzzle flashes strobed through the dark, illuminating brief, terrifying snapshots of the chaos. Evelyn moved like an armored tank through the smoke. When a second guard tried to grapple her from behind, she slammed her heavy hips backward, pinning him against a steel pillar. The force of her weight cracked his ribs, and before he could recover, she drove her elbow straight into his nose.

Snap.

"She's over here! Shoot her!" Sergei screamed, firing blindly toward the sound of his men falling.

Evelyn dropped flat onto the cold concrete floor, letting her heavy frame cushion her fall as bullets whizzed over her head, embedding themselves in the wall behind her. She drew her stun baton, thumbed the ignition switch, and swept it in a wide arc across the floor.

The electrical arc caught the third guard right across the ankles. Ten thousand volts surged through his boots, dropping him instantly, his body convulsing as he hit the floor.

That left Sergei.

The Russian boss backed away toward the hostage, pulling his pistol up to place the barrel against the girl's head. "Don't move! I'll kill her! I swear to God I'll—"

A shadow rose from the darkness behind him.

Evelyn didn't use a gun. She stepped out from the shadows, her massive, powerful form silhouetted against the distant streetlights filtering through the high windows.

"You're standing on my foundation," Evelyn said softly.

Before Sergei could process her words, Evelyn grabbed the back of his tactical vest with both hands, planted her heavy thighs into the floor, and yanked him backward with terrifying leverage. Sergei was lifted entirely off his feet, flung through the air like a ragdoll, and slammed face-first into a heavy iron beef hook hanging from the ceiling track.

He hit the floor, unconscious, his nose shattered and his weapon skittering away into the dark.

Silence returned to the warehouse, broken only by the heavy breathing of the terrified girl tied to the chair and the rhythmic splash of rain dripping from the ceiling.

Evelyn walked over, drew a combat knife, and sliced through the zip-ties on the girl's wrists.

"You're safe," Evelyn said softly, her voice returning to the gentle, warm tone she used with Lucas and Theo. "Your father is waiting for you."