Chapter 4

Blake POV

The click of the lock echoed like a gunshot in the sudden silence.

Jaden looked around, her confidence faltering for the first time.

"You can't do this," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Connor will kill you."

Ignoring her, I reached into my apron pocket and withdrew a burner phone.

It was a small, black device with only one number saved in it.

I hadn't used it in a year.

I dialed.

It rang once.

"Report," a deep, gravelly voice answered.

David Shaw.

My father.

"Code Black," I said coldly.

The line went silent for a heartbeat.

"Location?" he asked.

"The kitchen. Velvet Lounge."

"Status?"

"Hostile civilian on site. Personnel compromised. The Treaty has been violated."

I heard the sound of a chair scraping against a floor on the other end.

"Are you hurt?"

I looked down at my hand. It was throbbing, the skin angry and tight.

"Yes," I said.

"I'm sending the wolves," he growled.

"No," I said, my voice steady. "I want Connor here. In person. Ten minutes."

"Done."

"And send Lina. Bring the Dissolution Papers."

"Ten minutes, Principessa."

The line went dead.

I slid the phone onto the stainless steel counter.

Turning my gaze to Mark, who was cowering in the corner, I offered a grim warning.

"You might want to start praying, Mark."

"Who are you calling?" Jaden demanded, forcing a laugh that sounded brittle. "You think you can scare me? I own this city!"

I walked over to a stool and sat down, pointedly not offering her a seat.

"You don't own anything, Jaden," I said. "You're renting space in a grave you just dug."

Silence descended, heavy and suffocating.

The kitchen staff stood pressed against the walls, watching with wide eyes.

Austin stood next to me, his arms crossed over his chest.

He handed me a clean towel filled with ice. He didn't ask questions.

He just stood guard.

Nine minutes later, the back door slammed open.

Mark jumped.

Jaden spun around.

Connor Bishop burst into the room.

He was out of breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his tie was crooked.

He looked like a man who had just stared into the abyss and seen it staring back.

He scanned the room wildly.

He saw Jaden.

He saw Austin.

And then he saw me.

Sitting on the stool. Holding the ice to my hand.

"Blake," he gasped. "Your father... his men... they're outside. They have the building surrounded. What is going on?"

Jaden ran to him, grabbing his arm desperately.

"Baby! She locked me in here! She threatened me! Tell them to arrest her!"

Connor tried to shake her off, his eyes glued to me in horror.

"Blake, answer me. Why is the Shaw Syndicate surrounding my club?"

I stood up.

Slowly, deliberately, I took off the apron.

I let it fall to the floor.

It was a dirty, stained piece of fabric-the only thing that had made me his subordinate.

Now, I was just me.

"You failed, Connor," I said.

"Failed what?" he asked, his voice rising in panic.

"The test."

The kitchen doors swung open again.

Lina walked in.

She was wearing a sharp black suit, her heels clicking on the tile like rifle shots.

She was flanked by two men who were twice the size of Austin, both gripping assault rifles.

Lina didn't look at Connor.

She walked straight to me.

"Principessa," she said, handing me a leather portfolio.

Connor's face went white.

All the blood drained from his skin.

He looked from Lina to me, his lips trembling.

"Principessa?" he whispered.

"You ordered me to kneel," I said, stepping toward him.

I threw the portfolio at his feet.

It landed with a heavy, final thud.

"Now you crawl."