Chapter 1 - The Shattered Window
The cold air rushed through the shattered glass of Cindy Stone’s apartment window, carrying the heavy scent of rain, panic, and cheap bourbon. In the center of the wreckage stood David, his chest heaving under a sweat-stained gray hoodie, his knuckles white around the handle of a wooden baseball bat. Blood smeared his cheek from where Cindy had fought back with a heavy ceramic mug, but his eyes were locked on Andrew Carter with frantic, unhinged fury.
David raised the bat, his muscles straining. “Who the hell are you? Get the hell out of my—aah!”
The swing never finished.
Andrew didn't raise his voice, and he didn't hesitate. Before David’s momentum could carry the heavy wood forward, Andrew stepped inside his guard with terrifying speed. A brutal, crushing palm strike to David’s sternum knocked the air from his lungs in a violent wheeze. As David staggered backward, gasping and stumbling over the debris of a broken coffee table, Andrew followed up with a sweeping kick that sent the baseball bat clattering across the hardwood floor.
David crashed hard against the drywall, plaster cracking beneath his weight. Before he could slide to the floor, a large, heavy hand grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie and hoisted him upright.
Lucas Brooks, who had slipped through the window a heartbeat behind Andrew, pressed the cold muzzle of a Glock directly beneath David’s jaw.
“Move an inch,” Lucas whispered, his voice smooth and devoid of human warmth, “and your brains will decorate that wallpaper permanently.”
David froze, his eyes wide with sudden, sickening terror as he looked from Lucas’s deadpan expression to Andrew’s freezing, terrifying glare.
Andrew ignored him completely. He turned his back on the struggling man, his entire focus snapping to the far corner of the living room.
Cindy was still curled against the baseboard near the hallway, her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Her blouse was torn at the shoulder, a dark purple bruise was already blooming across her cheekbone, and a thin line of dried blood matted her honey-blonde hair. She was shivering so violently that her teeth clicked together, her wide, glassy eyes staring blankly at the floor.
For the first time since he had built the Carter syndicate from the ashes of his father’s bankrupt debts, Andrew felt something cold and sharp pierce his chest. It wasn't business. It wasn't strategy. It was a raw, protective fury that threatened to consume every rational thought in his head.
He dropped his weapon back into his shoulder holster, crossed the ruined room in two long strides, and dropped to one knee right in front of her.
“Cindy,” Andrew said. His voice, usually a flat, dangerous instrument that commanded boardrooms and terrified cartel bosses, dropped into an octave so soft it barely carried over the sound of the rain.
She flinched violently at his touch, squeezing her eyes shut as if expecting another blow.
“Hey. Look at me,” Andrew murmured, gently extending his hand, hovering it near her shoulder so she knew she had control. “It’s Andrew. You’re safe. I’m right here.”
Cindy slowly opened her eyes. When she saw the impeccably tailored suit now soaked with rain, the bruised knuckles on his hands, and the fierce, unyielding protection burning in his dark eyes, the last of her defenses crumbled. She let out a ragged, broken gasp and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Andrew wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest as if shielding her from the entire corrupt world outside.
Behind them, Lucas kept the gun pressed against David’s throat. “Boss,” Lucas called out quietly. “What do we want to do with the trash?”
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Andrew didn't look back. His chin rested on top of Cindy’s head, his hand gently stroking the back of her hair.
“Take him to the basement on 9th Street,” Andrew said, his voice dropping back into that icy, lethal register that made even hardened hitmen check their exits. “Don't kill him yet. Let him think about what he broke for a few hours. I want to talk to him when the sun comes up.”
