The morning sun reflected brilliantly off the hood of the armored black Lincoln Navigator as it wound its way down from Julian’s estate toward the bustling heart of the city. Inside the quiet cabin, Clara Vance felt a strange, buoyant sense of clarity.

Cutting her father out of her life the day be

Clara's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that threatened to crack her chest wide open. The cold steel of the hammer hovered above her, a brutal guillotine waiting to sever not her head, but her soul. Her hands were her livelihood. Her identity.

Marcus's grip on her wrist was bone-

The heavy steel doors of the warehouse groaned and gave way completely, slamming against the concrete floor with a sound like a thunderclap. Dust plumed into the air, illuminated by the harsh, blinding beams of tactical flashlights cutting through the gloom.

"Sterling!" a voice roared.

Clara’s h