The Billionaire's Blood Debt

The silence was heavier than the gunfire.

"Mommy?" Leo's voice was a tiny, frightened thread in the pitch-black space. "It's dark."

"I know, baby. Hold my hand. Don't let go."

I felt around the cold stone walls until I found a light switch. I flicked it. A string of dim emergency bulbs flickered to life, illuminating a narrow concrete tunnel sloping downward.

Roman groaned softly at my feet.

"Roman?" I knelt beside him. He was barely holding on. "Roman, wake up."

His gray eyes opened into small slits. "Megan. Where..."

"In the tunnel. Marcus stayed behind." My voice broke.

Roman's jaw tightened. He didn't say anything, but a deep grief flashed across his face. He forced himself onto his elbows. "Help me up."

"You can't walk."

"I have to."

I wedged my shoulder under his arm and hauled him up. With Leo holding my other hand, we began the slow, agonizing walk down the tunnel. Every step seemed to drain more life out of Roman.

"Why didn't you leave?" he rasped, his arm heavy across my shoulders.

"Because we don't leave people behind," I said stubbornly.

We walked for what felt like hours. The air grew damp and smelled of wet earth and exhaust fumes. Finally, we reached a heavy steel door.

Roman leaned against the wall, panting. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fob. He clicked it. The door swung open.

We stepped out into the freezing night air. We were under a highway overpass. Hidden in the shadows of the concrete pillars was a nondescript silver sedan.

"Get in," Roman wheezed.

I strapped Leo into the back seat, then helped Roman into the passenger side. I slid behind the wheel. I hadn't driven in three years.

"Where do we go?" I asked, my hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough to crack it.

"Downtown," Roman said, pulling out his phone. "To the restaurant."

"Are you crazy? That's where David is. That's Vance's territory."

"Exactly," Roman said, dialing a number. "Vance sent all his men here. The restaurant will be empty. And the encrypted drive is still in your apron in David's office."

It made a twisted kind of sense.

I threw the car into drive and sped toward the city.

We reached Laura's back alley—the exact spot where this nightmare had begun twenty-four hours ago. The restaurant was dark, closed down after the chaos of the night.

"Stay in the car with Leo," Roman ordered. "Lock the doors."

"You can barely stand!"

"I'll manage." He opened the door and stumbled out.

I watched him disappear through the service doors. Ten minutes passed. My anxiety spiked into sheer terror.

Suddenly, a pair of headlights washed down the alley. A black SUV blocked our car in.

The driver's door opened.

It was David Kesler. And he was holding a gun.