Bruno had never growled at one of his master’s men, but during the small girl's burial ceremony, he he promptly placed himself right between the casket and my most relied-upon lieutenant.

The sound of shattering glass was followed by a sickening, heavy thud on the stone patio below.

Marco screamed, scrambling toward the broken window, but Tony grabbed him by the collar, throwing him backward onto the carpet.

"Stay down!" Tony roared, his gun trained on the weeping underboss.

I walked to the jagged edge of the window, the cold night air biting at my face. Bruno stood beside me, his chest heaving, his dark eyes staring down at the patio. He let out a low, satisfied huff, his duty fulfilled.

I looked down. Isabella lay twisted on the flagstones, motionless. The heavy leather ledger was pinned beneath her broken arm.

"Tony, get down there and secure the ledger," I ordered, my voice devoid of emotion. "Check her pulse. If she’s alive, patch her up. We need to know who the federal buyer was."

Tony nodded grimly and sprinted out of the office.

I turned back to Marco. The man who had been my right hand for over a decade was curled into a fetal position on his own office floor, sobbing uncontrollably. He had lost his wife, his brother-in-arms, and his standing in the span of three hours.

"You kept a ledger on me," I said, walking slowly toward him. The anger had crystallized into a cold, pragmatic clarity.

"I was scared, Dante!" Marco wept, refusing to look up. "You’re ruthless. If I ever made a mistake, I needed leverage to keep you from killing me! It was just a safety net!"

"A safety net that your psychopathic wife just tried to sell to the Feds," I reminded him harshly. "Your cowardice almost cost me my empire. And it cost a seven-year-old girl her life."

"I’ll do anything to fix it," Marco pleaded, grabbing the hem of my trousers. "I’ll give you everything I have. Just let me live, Boss. Please."

Before I could answer, Tony’s voice crackled over the secure earpiece I wore.

"Boss," Tony panted, his voice laced with sudden panic. "You need to get down here. Now."

"Is she dead?" I asked, pressing the comms button.

"No," Tony replied. "She’s breathing. But that’s not the problem."

"What’s the problem?"

"The ledger," Tony said, a heavy swallow audible over the line. "It’s not here."

I frowned, looking back out the shattered window. "I saw it fall with her, Tony. Look closer."

"I’m looking right at her, Dante," Tony insisted, fear bleeding into his professional tone. "The book is gone. And..."

"And what?" I barked, my patience snapping.

"There are fresh tire tracks on the grass leading away from the patio gate," Tony reported. "Someone was waiting down here. Someone caught her, grabbed the book, and dumped her on the stones."

My blood ran ice cold.

Isabella hadn't been acting alone. She was arrogant, but she wasn't stupid enough to arrange a meeting with a federal prosecutor without a heavily armed middleman to facilitate the exchange.

"Secure the perimeter!" I shouted into the comms, turning and sprinting out of the office. "Bruno, heel!"

The dog followed me down the grand staircase, his claws clicking rapidly against the marble. We burst out the back doors onto the patio.

Tony was kneeling beside Isabella, applying pressure to a nasty head wound. She was unconscious, her breathing shallow.

I looked at the wet grass beyond the patio. Deep, aggressive tire ruts tore through the manicured lawn, leading toward the rear service gate, which hung wide open.

"They couldn't have gotten far," Tony said, standing up. "I’ll mobilize the tracking teams."

"No," I said, kneeling beside Isabella’s body. I searched her pockets, finding a sleek, silver burner phone tucked into her jacket.

I unlocked the screen. The last message sent was to an encrypted number, sent exactly two minutes before we breached the office door.

The package is secure. Meet me at the drop point.

I hit redial on the encrypted number.

It rang three times.

"Isabella?" a deep, raspy voice answered. The voice was synthesized, run through a scrambler to disguise the speaker's identity.

"Isabella is currently bleeding on her patio," I said coldly. "And I want my book back."

A low, menacing chuckle echoed through the phone.

"Dante," the synthesized voice purred. "I was wondering when you’d figure it out."

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"I am the man who just bought your entire life for a fraction of its cost," the voice mocked. "Isabella was a useful idiot. She thought I was a federal prosecutor. She thought she was buying immunity."

"If you aren't the Feds, who are you?" I pressed, signaling Tony to trace the call.

"I am a ghost from your past, Dante," the voice replied. "And I hold the ledger that contains the names of every corrupt judge in your pocket. By tomorrow morning, I will own them. I will own your territory. And you will be a king without a kingdom."

"You think a book makes you a boss?" I sneered.

"No," the voice agreed softly. "But knowing your weaknesses does. Isabella told me all about your little Achilles heel."

My stomach tightened. "I don't have weaknesses."

"Then why is your most trusted lieutenant, Tony, slowly bleeding out on the patio behind you?" the voice asked.

I spun around.

Tony stood five feet away, a look of profound shock on his face. He looked down at his chest.

A dark, blossoming red stain was spreading rapidly across his white shirt.

He hadn't been shot. He had been stabbed.