Chapter 1 - The Blind Spot and the Broken PerimeterThe rain bit into the damp bricks of the Ashworth-Moretti estate, turning the back courtyard into a slick black mirror. Norah’s gray sweater was soaked through at the shoulders, but the cold pressing against her skin was nothing compared to the ice in Roman Moretti’s amber eyes. He had pinned her against the wall with casual, terrifying precision, his hand hovering inches from her throat before dropping at her sharp command.
The burner phone rested heavily in Norah’s hand once more, the screen flashing with Ben’s frantic text messages.
They know your job. One guy said he knows you stay by the greenhouse. Nora please.
Roman read the words over her shoulder, his jaw tightening into a hard, unforgiving line. The implications hung in the freezing air between them like poison. The camera housing by the old greenhouse had been smashed during a storm five days ago—a dead zone in an otherwise impenetrable security grid.
"How long have you known about the camera?" Roman’s voice was dangerously low, a hum of pure, suppressed violence.
"I didn't," Norah whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I thought it was just bad maintenance."
"Nothing on this estate is poorly maintained," Roman corrected her coldly. He pulled his own encrypted satellite phone from his inner coat pocket and tapped out a rapid sequence. "Dante. Bring the perimeter logs for the north courtyard from the last seventy-two hours. And wake up the night detail."
"Roman, please," Norah pleaded, grabbing his forearm. The heavy wool of his coat was soaked, but beneath it, his muscles were coiled like steel cables. "My brother made a mistake. He owes Liam Sullivan eight hundred dollars. If Sullivan’s men come here—if they find out where I work—they’ll use me to get to you."
Roman turned his head slowly, looking down at her small hand clutching his sleeve. "They aren't coming here to get to me, Norah. If Sullivan’s thugs think they can use my staff as leverage, they are about to learn what happens to men who miscalculate their reach."
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He didn't release her arm. Instead, he pulled her out of the alleyway shadows and toward the main service entrance.
"You're coming inside," Roman ordered, brooking no argument. "And we are going to have a very long conversation about who has been leaking the blind spots of my estate to the city's lowest-tier loan sharks."
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