Vance, the leader of the mercenaries my father had hired, stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.

He held a submachine gun leveled at Roman’s position, but his eyes were on the truck.

My father scrambled to his feet, clutching his ribs and coughing.

“Vance, kill them!” Richard wheezed, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Kill the girl and get the ledger!”

I wiped the blood from my collarbone with the back of my hand.

The metallic taste of fear was in my mouth, but my hand was steady as I held up the phone.

“Vance!” I called out, my voice cutting through the damp air of the warehouse.

The mercenary leader didn’t lower his gun, but his gaze shifted to me.

“You are working for a man who has already spent your payment three times over,” I said.

My father took a step toward me, his face twisted in rage. “Shut her mouth!”

Declan stepped out from behind a stack of crates, his heavy revolver raised, his scarred face grim.

“Let her speak,” Declan growled.

Roman remained in the shadows, but I could feel his cold, analytical gaze tracking my every movement.