The hospital called me before midnight and told me my six-year-old son was dying.

Detective Sean Vance didn't waste a single second.

Within forty-eight hours of my phone call, Sean and a tactical unit of federal marshals had transformed our quiet Austin rental into an impenetrable fortress. Motion-sensor floodlights were installed along the perimeter, encrypted security cameras monitored every angle of the property, and two plainclothes federal agents sat in an unmarked sedan parked quietly across the street.

I sat at the kitchen island, staring at the photograph of Noah on the slide. My hands were trembling so badly I couldn't hold my coffee cup steady.

"Emily," Sean said gently, walking into the kitchen with a mug of black coffee. He pulled up a stool opposite me. "We traced the burner phone used to call you. It pinged off a cell tower near downtown Austin. A man named Victor Sterling."

I frowned, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. "Victor Sterling? Who is that?"

"He’s a high-level enforcer who used to work directly under your mother’s syndicate before it fractured," Sean explained, his brow furrowed with grim concentration. "When your mother was arrested, Sterling went underground. He’s been trying to salvage whatever hidden assets Martha left scattered across Travis County. He thinks you have the physical encryption key to the offshore accounts."

"I don't have any key!" I protested, my voice cracking. "I don't even know what accounts he’s talking about!"

"Sterling doesn't care whether you have it or not," Sean said, his voice dropping into a hard, protective tone. "He’s desperate, and desperate men make fatal mistakes. That’s why we’re going to use him."

I stared at the detective, dumbfounded. "Use him? Sean, my son’s life is being threatened! We need to run, or hide—"

"We can't run forever, Emily," Sean interrupted firmly. "As long as Victor Sterling is breathing, you and Noah will be looking over your shoulders. But if we draw him out—if we give him a reason to think you're ready to make a deal—we can trap him once and for all."

"A trap?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Sean said, sliding a secure tactical radio onto the counter. "You’re going to call the burner number back. You’re going to tell Sterling that you found the ledger in your mother’s old safety deposit box, and that you're willing to trade it for a permanent guarantee of safety."