My husband stood beneath the chandeliers of the Grand Meridian Hotel

Lucas tackled me to the ground in a fraction of a second, his heavy body covering mine as a second bullet tore through the window, showering the boardroom in tiny cubes of safety glass and plaster dust.

Screams tore through the Obsidian Room. Board members dove beneath the massive walnut table. Federal agents drew their sidearms, dragging Marcus and Grayson down behind the heavy leather credenzas.

"Stay down, Vivian! Don't move!" Lucas ordered, his hand firmly holding the back of my head against the carpet.

Through the chaos, I saw Marcus Whitaker. He was lying against the base of the wall, but he wasn't screaming. He wasn't panicking. A sinister, triumphant grin crept across his wrinkled lips.

"You foolish girl," Marcus whispered, loud enough for his voice to carry over the din. "Did you really think the government was the only power in this city? The consortium that backed *Aegis Holdings* doesn't allow audits. They don't allow trials. They clean their own messes."

Marcus hadn't brought the sniper to save himself; his shadowy partners had sent a cleanup crew to eliminate *everyone* who knew the truth.

"Agent Miller!" Lucas yelled over the screeching alarms that suddenly blared through the building's emergency system. "The fire stairs on the east wing! Move your prisoners now! The vantage point is from the high-rise across the avenue—they have an angle on this whole wall!"

Miller nodded grimly, barking orders to his agents. "Move! Move! Evacuate to the service core!"

Two agents grabbed Marcus by his cuffed arms, hauling him toward the exit. Another agent dragged Grayson, who was sobbing uncontrollably, his pristine pants stained with dirt and sweat.

As they dragged Grayson past me, his eyes met mine. There was no more arrogance. No more charm. Only the terrifying realization that the monstrous empire he had worshiped his entire life was now devouring him alive.

"Lucas!" Elena screamed from beneath a side desk, curled into a ball of trembling green silk. "Lucas, don't leave me here!"

Lucas looked at me, a question in his eyes. Despite the betrayal, despite the pain Elena had caused us both, blood was still blood.

"Bring her," I said without hesitation. "We need that key from the harbor bank."

Lucas lunged forward, grabbed Elena by the collar of her jacket, and pulled her onto her feet. "Keep your head down! Follow Vivian!"

We sprinted through the shattered double doors into the executive hallway. The emergency strobe lights were flashing white and orange, casting disorienting shadows along the walls. The elevator banks were shut down due to the alarm.

"Fire stairs," Lucas directed, kicking open the heavy steel door labeled *STAIRWELL B*.

We flew down the concrete stairs, our footsteps echoing like gunshots in the enclosed shaft. Twenty floors down, our legs burning, our breath tearing at our lungs. Elena was stumbling, her high heels discarded on the fifteenth floor, running barefoot on the cold concrete.

Behind us, from the floors above, the sound of heavy tactical boots began to descend. Rapid, disciplined, moving with military precision.