Dante raised his pistol, aligning the sights with Marco’s chest.

Marco stopped, his fingers hovering over his holster.

“Boss,” Marco said, his voice cracking. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“You sold out the family to a horse thief,” Dante said.

Sterling slowly slid his drawer open.

“Keep your hands on the desk, Julian,” I said, stepping into the room.

Sterling looked up, his eyes widening as he recognized me.

“Mara?” he whispered. “You’re dead.”

“Not quite,” I said.

Vesper stepped up behind me, her massive head filling the doorway.

She let out a low, menacing rattle from her chest.

Marco’s eyes went wide when he saw the black mare.

“The horse,” Marco gasped. “She was supposed to be lame.”

“She is stronger than both of you,” I said.

Sterling’s hand moved suddenly inside the drawer.

He pulled out a small, chrome revolver.

Dante fired once.

The bullet shattered the corner of the mahogany desk, sending wood splinters flying.

Sterling shrieked, dropping the gun as wood chips sliced his cheek.

Marco took advantage of the distraction.

He lunged at Dante, tackling him to the floor.