THE ARCHITECT OF SURVIVAL

The alleyway behind the Astor Hotel smelled of rain and hot asphalt.

Kaelen shoved Lily into the passenger seat of a stolen valet Porsche, sliding behind the wheel. The engine roared to life, violently cutting through the storm.

"Put your seatbelt on," Kaelen ordered, throwing the car into drive. They shot out into the Chicago traffic, weaving between cars at ninety miles an hour.

Lily gripped the door handle, her knuckles white. "You don't have to do this. Just drop me off. You need to hide."

"If the Romanovs bought my men, my safe houses are compromised," Kaelen said, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror. "Besides, I don't leave witnesses to be interrogated. And right now, you are the only person who saw exactly who drew their weapons first."

"I owe the Romanovs money, not loyalty," Lily shot back, defensive despite her terror.

"Why does an event planner owe the Russian mob three hundred grand?"

Lily stared out the rain-streaked window. The neon lights of the city blurred together. "Maya isn't my daughter. She's my niece. My sister, Chloe, died three years ago in a hit-and-run. Maya has a rare autoimmune disease. The experimental treatments aren't covered by insurance. The banks laughed at me. The loan sharks didn't."

Kaelen’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. His icy demeanor fractured, just for a second. He knew about protecting family at all costs. It was the entire reason he had taken over the Sterling syndicate when his father died.

"You sold your soul to keep a little girl alive," he murmured. "I can respect that."

They reached Lily’s apartment building in Wicker Park. It was a modest, four-story brick walk-up.

"Stay behind me," Kaelen instructed, pulling his weapon.

They rushed up the narrow stairs to the third floor. The door to apartment 3B was already ajar. The lock had been shot out.

Lily couldn't wait. She pushed past Kaelen, bursting into the living room. "Maya!"

The apartment was trashed. The couch was overturned, books scattered everywhere. In the center of the room, the teenage babysitter was tied to a dining chair, sobbing through a gag.

But there was no sign of the little girl.

Kaelen swept the rooms, his gun raised. "Clear," he called out.

Lily ripped the gag off the teenager. "Where is she? Where is Maya?"

"They... they took her," the girl sobbed, terrified. "Two men. They said you owed them money. They said if you didn't answer your phone, they were going to put her in a shipping container."

Lily collapsed to her knees, the world spinning. Her chest tightened so painfully she couldn't pull air into her lungs. She had failed. She had sacrificed everything, ruined her life, and they took her anyway.

Kaelen stepped into the living room. He didn't look at the babysitter. He was looking at the floor near the shattered front door.

He knelt down, picking something up from the cheap carpet.

He held it out in his palm. It was a heavy, custom-made gold cufflink, stamped with the Roman numeral IV.

Lily stared at it. "What is that? A Romanov crest?"

"No," Kaelen said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, hollow whisper. "It belongs to Silas."

Lily frowned, wiping her tears. "Who is Silas?"

"My uncle," Kaelen said, staring at the gold piece as if it were a venomous snake. "My father's brother. My most trusted advisor."

"Your uncle ordered the hit on you?"

"And he kidnapped your niece," Kaelen said, slipping the cufflink into his pocket. He looked down at Lily, his eyes burning with a dark, vengeful fire. "The Romanovs didn't buy my men. My own blood did. Silas is staging a takeover, and he's using your debt to frame you for my murder."

Lily felt a chill run down her spine. "Why would he take Maya?"

Kaelen walked over to a shattered picture frame on the floor. It was a photo of Lily and her late sister, Chloe. Kaelen picked it up, brushing the glass away.

"Because," Kaelen said softly, "your sister didn't die in a random hit-and-run, Lily. I know that car. I know that license plate in the background."