Chapter 7

The New York sky bruised purple as dusk settled over the city.

Audrey sat in the back of a yellow Uber, heading toward the Four Seasons. She kept her black trench coat tightly belted, her mind racing with the logistics of her new European identity.

The cab hit gridlock at the intersection of Times Square.

Audrey absentmindedly looked out the window. Her eyes drifted up to the towering Nasdaq electronic billboard.

The bright LED lights burned into her retinas.

The screen was playing a massive, high-definition video loop. It showed Kingston Savage, dressed in a bespoke tuxedo, wrapping his arms around Celestine Perry. Celestine was flashing a diamond ring the size of a quail egg.

The text beneath them flashed in elegant gold script: The Wedding of the Century. Engagement Gala: 3 Days Away.

Audrey stared at the face of the man who had ordered the death of her unborn children. Five years ago, seeing him hold Celestine had shattered her soul.

Today, she felt absolutely nothing but a cold, acidic disgust.

She pulled out her phone, snapped a photo of the billboard, and texted it to her assistant in Paris.

The prey is active. Prepare the net.

Before she could lock her screen, the phone vibrated. An unknown New York number flashed on the caller ID.

Audrey frowned and answered. "Hello?"

"Audrey! I mean, Echo-sis!"

It was Cody. Her younger brother. The only blood relative she had left in the world. His voice was panicked, drowned out by the chaotic shouting of a police precinct in the background.

"Cody? What happened?" Audrey sat up straight, her blood running cold.

"I'm at the NYPD 17th Precinct," Cody gasped. "They're charging me with felony assault! They're saying I nearly killed a guy in a bar fight, but I swear I didn't touch him!"

"I'm on my way," Audrey snapped. She leaned forward and tapped the plastic divider. "Driver. Turn around. 17th Precinct. Now."

Thirty minutes later, Audrey pushed through the heavy glass doors of the NYPD 17th Precinct.

The lobby was a madhouse. Prostitutes yelling, cops barking orders, the stale smell of cheap coffee and sweat hanging heavy in the air.

Audrey kept her head down, her oversized sunglasses hiding her eyes. She walked to the front desk and spoke to the desk sergeant in a clipped, European accent.

"I am here for Cody Thorne."

The sergeant typed on his keyboard. He looked up, his expression grim. "You his lawyer? Because he's gonna need a miracle. The plaintiff's family brought the heaviest legal team in the city. Judge already denied bail."

Audrey's eyes narrowed. She reached into her bag for her phone to call her own fixer.

Before she could dial, a sudden, oppressive silence fell over the chaotic lobby.

The crowd physically parted.

A phalanx of men in thousand-dollar suits marched out of the holding area corridors. They moved with the aggressive entitlement of people who owned the building.

Leading the pack was Kingston Savage.

He looked exactly like he did on the billboard. Cold, untouchable, radiating dominance.

Clinging tightly to his bicep, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, was Celestine Perry.

"They have to lock him up, Kingston," Celestine sobbed loudly, making sure the entire precinct heard her. "That animal nearly beat my brother Tristan to death!"

Audrey froze.

The pieces clicked together instantly. The plaintiff was Tristan Perry. Celestine's brother. This wasn't a random bar fight. This was a targeted hit on her brother, orchestrated by the Perrys, backed by Kingston's power.

A white-hot rage flared in Audrey's chest. Her fingers twitched.

But she couldn't blow her cover. Not here. Not yet.

She ducked her head, pulling the collar of her trench coat up, and turned quickly to blend into a group of people arguing near the vending machines.

"Let me go, you pigs!"

A drunk man, handcuffed to a bench behind Audrey, suddenly screamed. He violently ripped his arm free from the arresting officer and lunged forward, trying to escape.

He slammed hard into the crowd.

The physical force of the drunk man hitting the group sent people stumbling in all directions.

Audrey lost her footing. She was shoved violently backward, her high heels slipping on the linoleum floor.

She fell backward, straight into the path of the approaching lawyers.

Kingston took a sharp step back, his face twisting in profound annoyance at the incoming collision. But the woman stumbled directly into his path. To avoid a messy, public scene of a woman collapsing at his feet in front of the precinct, he reluctantly put out a hand to steady her.

Audrey's shoulder blades hit his chest. The smell of his crisp, expensive cedarwood cologne wrapped around her, instantly suffocating her with memories.

Kingston's large hand clamped down on her upper arm to steady her.

The second his fingers wrapped around her bicep, Kingston froze.

The physical sensation of her bone structure beneath the trench coat sent a violent electrical shock straight up his arm. Time stopped. The noise of the precinct faded into absolute silence.

Kingston looked down. He saw the curve of her neck. He saw the exact angle of her shoulders.

It was the silhouette from the photo. It was the ghost from the ocean.

His pupils dilated. His grip on her arm tightened from a supportive hold into a brutal, bone-crushing vice.

"Audrey? !" Kingston's voice tore out of his throat, hoarse and trembling with a terrifying mix of disbelief and madness.