I thought giving my husband’s mistress his family ring meant I was finally free—until the man waiting outside told me I had just signed my own death warrant.

Midnight at the South Port Cargo Terminal.

The storm had reached its peak. Waves crashed violently against the concrete piers, spraying freezing foam across the rusted shipping containers that lined the docks.

Roman had barricaded himself inside the master control tower of Pier 4, surrounded by fifteen loyal mercenaries—the last remnants of his personal guard that money could buy.

Vanessa Lane was tied to a steel support pillar on the lower deck of the warehouse, crying out through a gag as the cold water lapped at her ankles. Roman had wired the pier with industrial demolition charges, planning to blow the Moretti shipping terminal and flee by speedboat into international waters across Lake Michigan.

"We have snipers on Crane 3 and Crane 7," Marcus whispered over our tactical headsets as Dante and I moved through the shadows between the shipping containers.

"Negative on sniper fire," Dante commanded. "The terminal is rigged with C4. If a stray round hits the detonator relay on the main generator, the entire pier goes up. We breach in silence."

We moved like ghosts.

Dante took out the two sentries guarding the warehouse entrance with silent, suppressed headshots before they could even raise their radios.

I slipped through the side maintenance hatch, my weapon raised, my senses razor-sharp. I cut the zip-ties binding Vanessa to the pillar.

Vanessa collapsed into my arms, shivering violently from hypothermia, her face bruised and swollen.

"He's... he's on the upper catwalk," Vanessa sobbed, clutching my jacket. "He has the master detonator in his hand! Evelyn, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry for everything—"

"Get to the perimeter. Dante’s men are waiting outside," I told her firmly, handing her a tactical flashlight. "Run, Vanessa. Don't look back."

She scrambled through the exit into the safety of the night.

I stepped onto the central floor of the cavernous warehouse. The wind howled through the broken corrugated roof. Above me, on the steel catwalk thirty feet in the air, the yellow emergency lights flickered on.

Roman stood on the platform, his drenched hair plastered to his forehead, holding a submachine gun in his left hand and a digital detonator with a glowing red countdown in his right.

"I knew you'd come, Evelyn!" Roman laughed, a manic, broken sound that echoed off the steel walls. "You always were predictable! You always wanted to be the noble little princess!"

Dante stepped out from the opposite shadow, cutting off Roman's access to the rooftop ladder.

"Put the detonator down, Roman," Dante said, his voice flat and deadly. "The Coast Guard has sealed the harbor. The High Council has frozen your offshore accounts. You have nowhere left to sail."

"I don't need to sail!" Roman screamed, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "If I can't have the Moretti empire, nobody will! I’ll blow this harbor to hell and take both of you with me!"