The rain hammered against the cracked windshield of her rusted Honda Civic as Sienna Cross sat in the shadows. Her

hollow cheeks and tangled brown hair making her look like just another homeless woman lost in Manhattan’s

indifferent streets. She hadn’t eaten in two days. Her clothes were soaked through, and the old leather ledger

clutched against her chest was the only thing keeping her alive and the only thing that could get her killed. Across

the street, black SUVs lined up outside the Obsidian Hotel, where the most powerful criminals in New York had

gathered to celebrate Cole Thornton’s 36th birthday. The same Cole Thornton whose father had been poisoned 3 years

ago. A secret buried so deep that even the FBI couldn’t dig it up. But Sienna knew. She knew because her father had

written it all down before Carter Vance’s men put bullets in his head while seven-year-old Sienna watched from

inside a closet. Her small hand clamped over her own mouth to keep from screaming. Now, 20 years later, she

decoded enough of her father’s ledger to know that tonight at exactly 11:47 p.m.,

a bomb would tear through that hotel and everyone in it, including the one man who might actually help her destroy the

monster who’d taken everything from her. She had 90 minutes to convince a mafia boss that she wasn’t crazy, that she

wasn’t a threat, and that the same people who’d murdered her parents were coming for him next. The security guards

laughed when she screamed about the bomb, shoving her into the gutter like trash. But when Cole Thornton stepped

out of his vehicle, 6’2, cold gray eyes, a scar cutting through his left eyebrow,

something made him stop. “I know who poisoned your father,” she said, her voice steady despite the blood on her

lip. “And they’re about to finish what they started.” “For the first time in 3 years, Cole Thornton didn’t walk away

from a stranger’s words. If you’re hooked and want to see what happens next, smash that like button and share

this with someone who loves a good dark romance. Don’t forget to subscribe so you won’t miss a single chapter of this

story. Because in the world of shadows, trusting the wrong person means death. But not trusting anyone means dying

alone. Cole Thornton stood there, his steel gray eyes sweeping over Sienna’s face, searching for any trace of

deception, of a trap, of anything that would allow him to turn away and forget she had ever existed. But he didn’t find

There was only naked desperation in those brown eyes and a strange certainty he rarely saw in anyone, even among the

men from his own world. He turned to Frank Moretti, the 58-year-old man who had followed his father since the days

when they had nothing. His voice pitched low enough for only him to hear. Basement level B2, the black Mercedes,

license plate ending in 847. Check it now. Frank didn’t ask questions, didn’t

hesitate, only nodded and vanished into the shadows with five other men. Miranda

Rossi, in her blazing red dress and flawless lipstick, stepped up beside Cole, her crimson nails digging into his

arm. You can’t seriously believe this lunatic. Look at her. She looks like she just crawled out of a sewer. Cole didn’t

look at Miranda. He kept his gaze on Sienna, the girl standing in the rain, trembling, dried blood on her lips,

clothes soaked through, yet her back remained straight, her eyes never lowering. 15 minutes dragged by like 15

years. Then Cole’s phone vibrated. Frank’s voice came through rough and tight. Boss C4, right where she said,

“Timer set for 11:47. We’ve got 32 minutes.” Miranda went pale and stepped

back, her eyes widening in horror. But Cole caught something else in that look.

A flicker that wasn’t just fear. He didn’t have time to analyze it. Evacuate the entire hotel. Official reason is a

gas leak. No panic. Quiet, fast. His people moved like shadows. Efficient and

silent, guiding each group of guests out through back doors, emergency exits, any

route available. 400 people, 400 lives, all relocated within 20 minutes without

a single scream, without a moment of chaos. And then, just when Cole thought everything was under control, a black

sedan pulled up in front of the hotel, and an Asian man in his 40s, stepped out, an FBI badge glinting beneath the

street lights. Noah Chen, the federal agent Cole had heard about for years. The man rumored to be impossible to buy,

impossible to threaten, impossible to stop once he had scented blood. Mr. Thornton,” Chen said, his voice as calm

as if he were talking about the weather. “We received an anonymous call about a bomb here. Strangely enough, when we

arrived, we found you evacuating the entire hotel. Care to explain that?” Cole answered with the cool smile he’d

perfected over 20 years. “Gas leak,” Agent Chen, nothing to do with your line of work. “Gas leak,” Chen repeated, his

sharp eyes sweeping the crowd before stopping on Sienna, who still stood there like a ghost. And who is this

young woman? None of your business. Everything in this city is my business, Mr. Thornton. Especially the things

connected to you. Cole stepped forward, blocking Sienna from Chen’s view, his voice dropping into a low growl. Do you

have a warrant? An arrest order? No. Then have yourself a good night, agent.

Chen didn’t flinch. He only smiled. The kind that promised the game was far from over. Well meet again, Mr.

Thornton, soon. When the sedan vanished into the night, Cole turned back to

Sienna. She was still standing there, shaking, but unbroken. And in that moment, he realized she hadn’t just

saved 400 lives tonight. She knew things he’d been searching for over 3 years. Things about his father’s death. And

that made her the most dangerous thing Cole Thornton had ever encountered. Cole grabbed Sienna’s arm, not roughly but

not gently either, and pulled her through the back exit of the hotel into a private elevator up to the penthouse

he had reserved for his birthday night. The vast room opened onto floor to ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan,

glittering below. Yet neither of them spared the view a glance. Cole pushed Sienna into the black leather chair

facing his desk while he remained standing with his back against the glass, gray eyes never leaving her for a

single second. Frank guarded the door. Miranda had been ordered to stay downstairs to handle logistics. And now

only the two of them remained in the room bathed in muted golden light. “The notebook,” Cole said, his voice flat as

a frozen lake. “Where is it?” Sienna clutched the worn leather book to her chest, survival instinct making her draw

inward. Yet her voice stayed steady. “Safe, somewhere you’ll never find it.”

Cole tilted his head, one corner of his mouth lifting into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. You think I don’t have

ways to make you talk? I’m sure you do, Sienna replied. And this was where she played the only card she had. But if you

do, you’ll never know who poisoned Raymond Thornton, and you’ll never know why. His father’s name hung in the air

like a blade. Cole didn’t move, didn’t change expression. But Sienna saw his shoulders stiffen. His jaw tighten until

the muscle jumped beneath the skin. She went on, knowing this was her only chance. My father was Thomas Cross,

chief accountant for 12 major New York mafia families for 15 years. He recorded

everything, every deal, every payoff, every secret you thought was buried. And

Carter Vance, she spoke the name as if it were Venom. Killed my parents because of that notebook. He thought it burned