A little girl grabbed my coat outside my own mansion and whispered, “My mommy has been missing for three days.” I thought it had to be a misunderstanding—until she led me beneath my own home, where I uncovered a nightmare so unbelievable that every person I trusted instantly became a suspect.

The wind screamed through the valley, kicking up clouds of white snow that swirled between us like a ghost.

My mind worked at lightning speed, calculating angles, distances, and reaction times. Daniel was standing six feet behind Nathan, holding a high-caliber automatic weapon. Nathan had his thumb resting directly over the red button of the detonator.

If I drew my gun and shot Nathan, his dying spasm might press the button and kill Marcus in the guardhouse. If I surrendered, they would tie me up, throw me into a ditch, and execute Mia and Harper before the day was out.

“You’re making a mistake, Daniel,” I said, looking past Nathan’s shoulder at the guard holding the rifle.

Daniel winced, his fingers tightening nervously around the rifle frame. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vale. They offered me three million dollars. My daughter... she needs specialized care in Germany...”

“I would have paid for her care, Daniel,” I said softly. “You knew that. You’ve known me for six years.”

“He didn't think you’d survive Volkov’s takeover, Dom!” Nathan yelled, his patience snapping. “Enough talking! Drop your weapon on the snow, or I blow Marcus into pieces right now!”

Nathan raised his thumb higher over the red button.

Suddenly, a loud, sharp explosion cracked through the freezing air—not from the guardhouse, but from the dense pine trees fifty yards to our left.

A high-velocity sniper bullet tore through the freezing air, striking Daniel directly in the chest.

The impact slammed Daniel backward into the snowbank, his rifle flying out of his hands, discharging a wild burst of bullets into the sky before he hit the ground motionless.

Nathan gasped in utter shock, his eyes widening as he whipped his head toward the trees.

That split second of distraction was all I needed.

I lunged forward across the snow, grabbing Nathan’s wrist with both hands before he could press the red button. We slammed into the freezing ground together, rolling down the sloped driveway, fighting wildly for control of the detonator.

Nathan drove his left elbow into my jaw, sending a flash of red pain through my skull. I gritted my teeth, ignored the blood filling my mouth, and slammed his hand violently against a large stone protruding from the ice.

Crack.

Nathan shrieked in pain as his fingers broke against the stone, dropping the black plastic detonator onto the snow.

I kicked the detonator twenty feet away, rolled over his chest, and drew my silver revolver, pressing the cold barrel directly against the center of his forehead.

“Don't move,” I growled, my chest heaving, blood dripping from my lip onto his pale cheek.

From the pine trees on the edge of the property, a figure dressed in a heavy white camouflage snow-suit stepped out into the open, carrying a long-range silenced sniper rifle.

The sniper pulled down their face mask.

It was Marcus.

I stared at him in utter disbelief. “Marcus? How the hell are you out here? Nathan said you were in the guardhouse basement!”

Marcus walked over, his boots crunching calmly in the snow, his eyes cold as he looked down at Nathan writhing in pain.

“I found the C4 under the floorboards twenty minutes ago, Boss,” Marcus said calmly. “Mia woke up in the guest suite and told Dr. Harrison where Nathan kept his private equipment. I disarmed the charge, slipped out the back window, and took a position in the ridge line.”

I looked down at Nathan. His face was twisted with pain, holding his broken wrist to his chest, staring up at me with eyes full of utter defeat and pure hatred.

“You got lucky, Dom...” Nathan spat, coughing blood onto his collar. “Volkov’s men are already on their way... three armored vans... they’ll be at the main gate in ten minutes...”