At my birthday party, my husband tied me to a ceiling beam and whipped me thirty times because I had stained his mistress’s dress. “Maybe now you’ll learn your place,” he laughed while everyone watched. I didn’t cry. When they finally cut me down, I picked up my phone and called my five gangster brothers. “Make his entire family beg for mercy,” I whispered. Then the front gates suddenly slammed shut.

Every eye in the room followed my movement as I walked steadily toward the head table. My purse was sitting beside the birthday cake. My phone was right underneath it.

Behind me, Isaac sighed. "Flora, stop being dramatic. Go upstairs, clean yourself up, and we'll discuss your allowance in the morning."

I picked up my phone, unlocked the screen, and opened my contacts.

I hadn't dialed this number in four years.

I pressed the call button and placed the phone to my ear. It didn't ring twice.

"Flora?"

The voice was deep, gravelly, and instantly recognizable. Noah. My eldest brother.

"Noah," I said.

A pause on the line. I could hear the faint hum of a heavy vehicle engine in the background. "What happened?"

I looked straight at Isaac. At Clover. At Wendy. At Arthur Vance, who was casually swirling his scotch.

"Make his entire family beg for mercy," I said.

The silence that descended on the ballroom was heavy and absolute.

Noah’s voice instantly shifted, dropping an octave into pure, terrifying steel. "What did he do to you, Flora?"

"I’ll explain when you arrive."

"Put him on the phone," Noah demanded.

"No," I said firmly. "I don't want you talking to him. I want you here."

"We're already close," Noah replied quietly. "We've been in New York since yesterday."

Before I could ask him what he meant, a low, metallic boom rattled the heavy glass windows of the ballroom.

Outside, the heavy iron front gates of the estate had just been force-driven back into their stone posts.

Arthur Vance dropped his glass of scotch onto the hearth. The crystal shattered, spilling amber liquid across the stone. "What the hell was that?"

A security guard burst through the double doors of the foyer, his uniform disheveled, his face pale as chalk. "Mr. Vance... sir..."

"What is it?" Arthur barked.

"There are vehicles coming up the driveway," the guard stammered. "Heavy armor. They bypassed the main checkpoint."

Isaac laughed nervously. "So stop them! What do we pay you for?"

"We tried, sir," the guard whispered. "They rammed the barricade."

Outside, bright halogen headlights cut through the dark rain, illuminating the ballroom windows. Five identical, matte-black SUVs drove up the winding driveway in a tight tactical V-formation, coming to a sudden, synchronized stop in front of the grand entrance.