When the hurricane warning reached our private island, my husband took the final helicopter seat with his pregnant mistress and left me standing in the rain,

"Elena, we have a problem," Kaelen’s voice cut sharply through my comms piece.

I spun around. Kaelen was standing near the terrace doorway, his rifle raised toward the estate's inland perimeter. The tree line near the private airstrip was ablaze with muzzle flashes.

"Sterling's secondary extraction team," Kaelen reported grimly. "They realize the federal net is closing. They aren't trying to rescue Sloane—they're executing a scorch-earth cleanup. They have heavy machine guns and thermite charges. They're going to burn the manor to erase the servers before the Coast Guard reaches the beach."

A rocket-propelled grenade whistled through the night, slamming into the western wing of the mansion. The explosion shook the entire terrace, raining stone and blazing mahogany into the courtyard below.

"Julian! Get the master vault keys!" I commanded, adrenaline surging back into my veins.

Julian scrambled against the wall, shaking uncontrollably, his hands covering his head. "I can't! I don't know the master codes! Mother changed them before she went to Zurich!"

"Useless coward," I spat.

"Elena, we need to move to the transmission tower on the north cliff," Kaelen said, firing a controlled burst over the railing at three shadows advancing across the manicured lawn. "If Sterling destroys the primary hard drives in the mansion, the offshore ledgers will be corrupted. The feds won't have enough to convict the Syndicate board—only Sloane and Julian will take the fall."

"I didn't come this far to let the puppet masters walk away," I said, checking the magazine of my Glock.

I grabbed Sloane by her good arm, hauling her brutally to her feet. She screamed in pain.

"You're coming with us," I hissed. "Your retina opens the Sterling relay hub at the tower."

"Go to hell, Elena!" she spat, blood flecking her lips.

I shoved her toward Kaelen. "Keep her moving. Julian, stay here and burn with your castle, or run down to the harbor and surrender to the feds. Your choice."

Julian looked at the advancing mercenaries, then at the blazing western wing, then at me. For the first time in his life, there was no helicopter waiting to save him. No trust fund to insulate him.

He was just a pathetic, shivering man standing in the ruins of his own making.