"My mother worked seventy-seven days without being paid while her boss flaunted a new Porsche and begged her to wait “one more week.” So I slipped away at lunch, walked past seven armed men, and asked the most dangerous man in Chicago why nobody had made David Sterling pay her.

"Get Rory," Vincent commanded Leo, his voice turning into cold, razor-sharp steel.

He didn't hesitate. Vincent reached into a hidden compartment beneath his mahogany desk, pulled out a custom tactical sidearm, racked the slide with a heavy clack, and stepped out into the hallway.

In the executive lobby, Elena Vance was crouching behind the marble reception desk, holding a terrified Rory in her arms. The emergency red lights cast long, ominous shadows across the floor.

"Mr. Kane!" Elena whispered, her voice trembling. "The elevators are locked down, but the stairwell door was forced from floor forty!"

"Stay down, Elena," Vincent ordered. He walked over, crouching beside Rory.

Rory wasn't crying. Her small hands were holding her red hoodie tightly against her chest, her big blue eyes wide as she looked at Vincent.

"Is the bad man here?" Rory whispered softly.

Vincent looked into her eyes, leaning down so he was at her eye level. "Nobody is going to hurt you, Rory. Do you remember what I told you about my men?"

Rory nodded quickly. "They're guards. They keep us safe."

"That's right," Vincent said softly. He pulled a silver whistle attached to a leather lanyard from his pocket and placed it around Rory's neck. "You blow this if anyone you don't know comes near you. Leo is going to take you to the safe room."

Before Leo could reach for Rory, the heavy steel reinforced doors of the executive stairwell burst open with a deafening crash.

Two men dressed in tactical black gear, wearing ski masks and carrying suppressed automatic weapons, stepped into the lobby.

"Kane!" one of the shooters yelled, swinging his weapon toward the reception desk.

Vincent moved with terrifying, lightning-fast speed. He fired three precise shots from his sidearm before the shooter could even level his barrel. The deafening booms echoed through the high-ceilinged lobby as the first intruder collapsed onto the marble floor.

The second intruder fired a wild spray of bullets, shattering the glass partitions of the conference rooms. Plaster and glass rained down like hail.

Leo lunged forward, tackling the second shooter against the wall, disarming him with a brutal wrist lock and slamming him into the marble floor until the man went limp.

"Clear!" Leo growled, standing over the fallen intruder, pulling a fresh magazine from his vest.

Suddenly, Sarah’s voice echoed frantically from the stairwell monitor. "Rory! Vincent! Oh God, Rory!"

Sarah had sprinted up from the forty-first floor archive room the second the alarms started ringing, ignoring every safety protocol, driven by pure maternal panic. She burst through the stairwell door into the smoke-filled lobby.

"Mommy!" Rory cried, slipping out from behind the desk and running toward her.

"Rory!" Sarah sobbed, dropping to her knees and grabbing her daughter into an embrace so tight Rory could barely breathe. "Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!"

"I have the whistle," Rory said, holding up the silver piece around her neck. "Mr. Kane gave it to me."

Sarah looked up through the smoke. Vincent stood near the center of the lobby, holding his firearm at low ready, surrounded by shattered glass and fallen assailants. His suit was flawless, his expression utterly stone-cold, but his eyes were fixed on Sarah and Rory with deep, protective intensity.

"The building is secure," Vincent said, his voice cutting through the ringing alarms. "My outer team has locked down the garage. Moretti’s men failed."

He walked over to Sarah, offering his large hand to help her stand.

Sarah took his hand, her body shaking from the adrenaline rush. "Thank you... thank you for keeping her safe."