Three black SUVs were parked idling along the curb.

The heavy side doors began to slide open.

Men in dark tactical gear, carrying short-barreled rifles, stepped out into the rain.

“Get down!” Lucian shouted.

I grabbed Bishop’s collar, dragging him behind a thick marble pillar near the bar.

My heart hammered against my ribs as the first shots rang out.

The glass of the front doors shattered into a thousand pieces.

In my apron pocket, my phone vibrated again.

I pulled it out, the blue screen lighting up my face in the shadows.

A text message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.

I looked down and read the words.

*The keys to the front gate are already sold. Marcus is coming for the crown.*

I stared at the screen as another volley of gunfire shattered the mahogany bar above us.

Plaster dust fell like gray snow, coating my hair and the fabric of my apron.

“Lucian!” I called out over the noise.

He dropped to one knee beside the pillar, his face streaked with soot and sweat.