THE DEBT OF BLOOD AND SHADOWS

Julian was alive.

The words echoed in my head, a drumbeat of impossible information. I stared at Elena, searching her battered face for the lie. People in my world lied to survive. They spun stories to buy time.

But the raw, jagged grief in her voice couldn't be faked.

"Julian died in a fire," I said slowly, the words feeling like ash in my mouth. "I identified the ring. I buried him."

Elena let out a bitter, exhausted sound. "You buried a stranger. Julian knew Caldwell was coming for him. He knew there was a leak in your organization. He tried to tell you."

My mind raced backward five years. Julian and I had argued. He said we were exposed. I told him he was being paranoid. The next day, his car went up in flames.

"If he was alive, why didn't he come to me?" I demanded.

"Because the leak was someone you trusted," she whispered, her eye locking onto mine. "He couldn't risk it. We ran. We changed our names. We had Leo." She looked at the picture in my hand. "We were safe. Until two weeks ago."

"What happened two weeks ago?"

Elena’s face tightened with fresh agony. "Caldwell’s men found us in Seattle. They dragged Julian into the street. They... they shot him, Dominic. Right in front of me. This time, he's really gone."

A hollow, violent silence filled the clinic. My brother was dead. Again. But this time, I knew exactly who pulled the trigger.

"And the boy?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm.

"Caldwell took him. He locked me in that warehouse. He said if he killed me, Leo would be an orphan. He wanted me to suffer first. He wanted you to find me."

I turned to Marco. "Caldwell didn't leave her as a message to back off. He left her as bait."

Marco was already pulling his weapon, checking the magazine. "He knew you'd take her to a safehouse. He knows we’re here."

"Not just here," Doc Evans interrupted, his face pale. He was pointing to the silver locket still in my hand. "Look at the hinge, Dominic."

I looked closer. Tucked beneath the old silver backing, smaller than a grain of rice, was a flashing red diode. A GPS transmitter.

Before I could speak, the heavy steel door at the front of the clinic shuddered. A massive impact reverberated through the brick walls.

They weren't coming. They were already here.

"Doc, get her up!" I roared, drawing my sidearm.

Marco kicked a heavy medical cabinet in front of the door leading to the alley. "We have maybe thirty seconds before they breach the front!"

Elena was struggling to her feet, clutching her ribs. I grabbed my coat and threw it over her, then shoved the locket into my pocket. I wouldn't leave it. It was the only picture she had of her son.

The front door splintered with a deafening crack. Gunfire erupted, tearing through the drywall and shattering the overhead lights. Glass rained down on us.

"Back exit!" Marco yelled, returning fire down the hallway.

I grabbed Elena by the arm, pulling her toward the reinforced steel door leading to the subterranean parking garage. She stumbled, crying out in pain, but she didn't stop moving.

We burst into the damp, concrete-scented air of the garage. I pushed her behind a concrete pillar just as two of Caldwell's men rounded the corner.

I fired twice. Both men dropped.

Marco sprinted toward our SUV, but a spray of bullets forced him behind a concrete barrier. He swore loudly, gripping his thigh. Blood seeped through his fingers.

"Marco!" I shouted.

"I'm fine! Get her in the car!"

I dragged Elena to the passenger side, shoving her in. As I rounded the hood to the driver's side, a figure stepped out from the shadows near the ramp.

It wasn't a nameless thug. It was Silas. My second-in-command. The man who had been running my northern territories for a decade.