A homeless seven-year-old girl found me crying alone in the freezing Chicago rain and offered me the last piece of bread she had. “Mister, are you crying because you're hungry too?” She had no idea men across the city feared my name, or that I'd trade every dollar, every business, and every ounce of power I possessed for the one thing I couldn't buy back: my son.

The air in the narrow room grew thick with the smell of dust and ozone. Outside, the storm howled through the cracked concrete, but inside, time seemed to freeze once again.

I stood up slowly, positioning my body so that I completely blocked Lucas from Victor's line of sight.

"You don't want to press that switch, Victor," I said, my voice dropping into an icy, steady calm that surprised even myself. "If this floor collapses, you die with us. You spent eight months setting this up for money. Dead men don't spend cash."

Victor's jaw twitched. "You ruined my reputation! You destroyed my firm! Your ex-wife paid me half a million to hide this boy, but she didn't have the stomach to finish the job. I kept him here because I knew one day you'd pay ten times that amount to get him back!"

"I'll give you twenty million," I said instantly, without a second of hesitation. "Transferable to any offshore account in the world within three minutes. You take the money, walk out the south exit, and disappear."

Victor hesitated, his eyes darting toward the stairwell as the sound of distant sirens grew louder across the river bridge. "You're lying."

"Check your phone," I said calmly, reaching into my inner pocket with two fingers, pulling out my encrypted tablet, and tossing it onto the floor between us. "The transfer screen is open. Punch in your account routing number. You have sixty seconds before my secondary perimeter team sweeps the ground floor."

Victor stared at the tablet, greed warring with paranoia across his features. His finger loosened slightly on the detonator toggle as he lowered his gaze to reach for the device.

That split second was all I needed.

I didn't reach for a gun. I launched my body forward, slamming my entire weight into Victor's chest before his finger could press the toggle.

We crashed violently through the doorframe and into the outer corridor, rolling across the concrete floor. Victor fired wild shots into the ceiling as I grabbed his wrist, driving his hand into the hard floor until the revolver skittered away into the dark.

He screamed, trying to reach for the detonator with his other hand, but I pinned his arm down, my knee driving into his chest.

"This is for my son," I growled, striking him once across the jaw.

"And this," I added, delivering a second blow that knocked him completely unconscious, "is for Emily."

The detonator rolled harmlessly out of his limp hand.

Gabriel groaned on the floor, slowly coming to, as the heavy footsteps of Marco and my secondary squad echoed up the stairs, breaching the corridor with flashlights and tactical gear.

"Boss!" Marco shouted, rushing forward. "The perimeter is secure! Emergency vehicles are arriving!"

I stood up, adjusting my torn collar, and looked back into the small room.