The first thing Maya Lin saw when the cellar door opened was the face of the most dangerous man in Boston.

The cellar beneath the compound was a far cry from the lightless, damp nightmare Maya had survived, but it was still a place designed for extracting truth.

Donovan was strapped securely to a heavy iron chair beneath a harsh halogen light. His face was bloodied, his tactical vest stripped away, revealing the black serpent tattoo on his neck. Marcus stood in the shadows, holding a pair of heavy pliers.

Victor stood directly in front of the traitor, his perfectly tailored suit a stark contrast to the violence about to unfold.

“You opened my gates, Donovan,” Victor said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “You brought my brother’s assassins to the place where I sleep. You endangered the woman under my protection.”

“Julian pays better!” Donovan spat, blood flying from his lip. “Your empire is crumbling, Victor! The old families are tired of your rules! Julian is going to take it all, and he’s going to start by blowing this fortress to hell!”

Victor didn’t raise his voice. He simply nodded to Marcus.

A sickening crack echoed through the concrete room, followed by Donovan’s agonizing scream.

Upstairs in the kitchen, Maya sat with a cup of tea, listening to the muffled screams echoing from below. She knew what Victor was doing. She knew he was a monster to the rest of the world. But she also knew he was doing it to keep Clara safe. She closed her eyes, accepting the darkness that surrounded him because it was the only thing standing between her and death.

An hour later, Victor emerged from the basement. He washed the blood from his hands in the kitchen sink, his face utterly exhausted.

Maya silently handed him a clean towel.

“Julian isn't hiding in a warehouse,” Victor said quietly, drying his hands. “He’s hiding in plain sight. He’s taking over the Sapphire Grand Hotel downtown tomorrow night. He’s hosting a summit with the rival cartels to formally usurp my throne.”