They were signed, sealed, and ready to be delivered to Roman.

Once this was over, those papers would make me a free woman under the strict laws of the Calder syndicates.

But first, I had to survive the next five minutes.

Vance turned his gun completely away from Roman and aimed it directly at my father’s chest.

“Where is the real money, Richard?” Vance asked.

“There isn’t any,” I answered for him. “He spent the last of his cash on the boat ticket.”

My father made a sudden, desperate lunging movement toward the side door of the warehouse.

Before he could take three steps, a shot echoed through the rafters.

The bullet struck the concrete inches from his left foot, sending chips of stone flying.

Roman Vescari stepped out of the darkness, his silver-plated automatic pistol still smoking.

“The game is finished, Richard,” Roman said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion.

My father stopped, his chest heaving as he stared at the smoking crater in the floor.

Two of Vance’s mercenaries grabbed my father by the arms, slamming him against a stack of crates.