The cold metal barrel of the gun looked enormous in the dim light.

“Leo, don’t,” Silvio warned.

“I’m taking what’s mine,” Leo said.

He began to pull the trigger.

Beside him, Dominic lunged from the chair with a sudden, desperate burst of strength.

The silver scalpel flashed in the air.

A phone on the desk suddenly lit up, its screen glowing bright blue in the shadows, buzzing loudly against the wood.

The sound of the buzzing phone cut through the silence of the study like a drill.

Leo’s eyes flickered toward the glowing blue screen for a fraction of a second.

That split second of distraction saved my life.

Dominic’s body collided with Leo’s side, his shoulder slamming into Leo’s ribs.

The scalpel in Dominic’s hand sliced through the air, catching the sleeve of Leo’s expensive wool coat.

Leo stumbled back, his gun hand wavering as he fired a single shot into the Persian rug.

The smell of burnt wool and cordite filled the room immediately.

Silvio leaped backward, his hand instantly going to the holster beneath his jacket.

“Stop!” Silvio roared, his voice shaking the heavy oak bookshelves.