1At a family dinner, my sister introduced her boyfriend—and for some reason, he couldn’t stop staring at me. He asked what I did for a living. I answered. That’s when my mother slam;med a wrench into my face for “talking back.” They burst out laughing. “At least you’re pretty now,” my sister sneered. “One hit wasn’t enough,” she added. Mom tossed her the wrench. “Your turn.” I tried to block them. My father grabbed my arm. Everything went black. They kept smiling beside her boyfriend—like I was the punchline. Then their smiles drained of color…

The FBI safehouse in rural Vermont was a fortress masquerading as a rustic timber lodge. Surrounded by dense pine forests, razor-wire fencing hidden within the treeline, and armed federal guards patrolling the perimeter twenty-four hours a day, it was designed to keep high-profile witnesses alive.

Inside, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.

Eleanor and Madison Vance had been brought in under the cover of darkness three days after the penthouse shootout. Stripped of their luxury, their designer clothes replaced by oversized gray sweatpants and hooded sweatshirts provided by the government, they looked like ghosts wandering through a graveyard.

I sat in the lodge’s main living area, staring into the roaring stone fireplace, a glass of bourbon resting in my hand.

Eleanor crept into the room, her footsteps hesitant, her skin pale and paper-thin. The arrogance that had defined her for fifty years had completely evaporated, replaced by a twitchy, paranoid terror. Every time a branch scraped against the windowpane outside, she jumped.

"Emily..." Eleanor whispered, holding a mug of instant coffee with trembling hands. "The... the guards said we can't leave the perimeter. Is it true? Are those Russian men really trying to kill us?"

I didn't turn to face her. "Robert sold your lives to clear his debt, Mother. If the FBI hadn't intercepted the hitmen at your motel, you and Madison would be floating in the Connecticut River right now."

Eleanor sank onto the edge of a wooden chair, a choked sob escaping her throat. "Your father... how could he do that? After everything I did for him! After thirty years of marriage!"

"You didn't do it for him," I said, finally turning my head to look at her. My silver scar caught the firelight, gleaming wickedly in the dim room. "You did it for the country club membership. You did it for the gold-rimmed china. You stayed with a monster because he bought you pretty things, and when he decided to break my face, you handed him the tool."

"I was trying to keep the family together!" Eleanor shrieked, a sudden, pathetic flash of her former rage surfacing before dissolving back into tears. "You were always so difficult, Emily! Always judging us! Always making us feel like bad people with your stupid social work and your moral superiority!"

"I didn't make you bad people," I replied calmly, taking a slow sip of bourbon. "You did that all on your own."

Madison walked into the room then, her eyes swollen. She looked at Eleanor, then at me, before throwing herself onto the couch opposite mine.

"The D.A. called my lawyer this morning," Madison said, her voice completely dead of emotion. "They're revoking Travis's bail. He signed a full confession. He admitted that he helped Dad forge my signature on three shell corporation documents. I’m being named as a co-conspirator, Emily. I’m facing five years in federal prison."

She looked at me, begging with her eyes for a shred of pity. "I didn't know what I was signing! Dad told me it was for my trust fund! You have to tell the FBI I'm innocent, Emily! Victoria Sterling is leading the prosecution team—she'll listen to you!"

"You signed the papers because you were greedy, Madison," I said flatly. "You wanted the life Travis promised you. You wanted the yacht in Bali. You were happy to ignore where the money came from as long as the checks cleared."

"I'm your sister!" Madison screamed, slamming her fists onto her knees. "We grew up in the same house! We played in the same backyard! How can you sit there so cold, so heartless, watching our lives fall apart?!"

"Because my heart died on the dining room floor six months ago," I said, standing up. The room went dead quiet as I towered over both of them. "You think this is my revenge? You think I enjoy seeing you in cheap sweatpants, eating government rations in a forest? I don't feel joy, Madison. I don't feel anger anymore. I feel nothing."

Before Madison could reply, the heavy iron door of the lodge swung open. Special Agent Sarah Miller walked in, her trench coat wet from the pouring rain outside. Her expression was grave.

"Emily," Miller said, stepping into the center of the room. "We have a situation."

I turned to her. "What happened?"

"Robert Vance just escaped from the correctional facility during a medical transport to the hospital," Miller stated, her voice sending a shockwave of cold air through the warm room.

Eleanor dropped her coffee mug. It shattered on the stone floor, dark liquid splashing across her bare ankles. "What?! How?!"

"He faked a heart attack," Miller explained, pulling out her sidearm and checking the chamber. "The transport ambulance was ambushed three miles from the prison by an armed team affiliated with the Bratva. Two transport guards are dead. Robert is out, and he knows where this safehouse is."

Madison began to scream, clutching her head in terror. "He's coming here! He's going to kill us all!"

"He's not coming to kill you, Madison," Agent Miller said, looking directly at me. "He's coming for Emily. He knows she has the primary biometric key to the encrypted server. Without her, the syndicate can't access the twenty million dollars, and Robert is a dead man walking."

Outside, thunder rumbled across the Vermont hills, followed immediately by the sudden, sharp sound of gunfire echoing from the outer perimeter fence.

The security alarms inside the lodge began to wail, flashing red light pulsing through the timber rooms.

Agent Miller drew her weapon, signaling to the two federal guards inside. "They've breached the gate. Secure the panic room!"

Eleanor scrambled backward on her hands and knees, weeping hysterically, while Madison froze in pure, catatonic terror. I stood in the middle of the flashing red light, watching the front doors of the lodge tremble as heavy bodies threw themselves against the reinforced oak.

I didn't run to the panic room. I walked over to the gun cabinet on the far wall, smashed the glass door with my elbow, and pulled out a tactical shotgun.

I racked a shell into the chamber with a crisp, lethal metallic sound.

"Emily! What are you doing?!" Eleanor screamed from the hallway. "Get in the panic room!"