He froze, a half-loaded magazine still in his hand.

In the dim light of the basement, my phone on the wooden table began to glow.

An unknown number was flashing on the screen.

I swiped the screen and brought the phone to my ear.

“Speak,” I whispered.

“It’s me,” Elena’s voice came through, thin but clear over the static. “Marcus is out. He is at St. Jude’s.”

“Is he alive?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “The bullet missed his femoral artery. My people have the floor locked down. The honest ones.”

I let out a breath I did not realize I was holding. “And Tony?”

“He thinks Marcus is dead,” Elena said. “He is preparing the transition. The board meeting is scheduled for nine tonight at the high-rise.”

“We are ready here,” I said, looking at Romano.

“Do not move yet,” she said. “The entrance is guarded by Tony’s personal security. I am on my way to you.”

The call went dead.

I set the phone back on the wooden table.

Upstairs, the floorboards groaned.

Romano raised his rifle, aiming it at the base of the wooden stairs.