this?’

The man glanced at it, then laughed through blood.

‘Good planning,’ he said.

‘You weren’t the only target tonight.’

Chloe felt her stomach fold inward.

‘Who gave you the floor plan?’ Dominic asked.

The shooter turned his head just enough to look toward the office where Callahan had retreated.

He didn’t need to say the name.

But he said another one anyway.

‘Romano paid,’ he whispered.

‘Your owner served.’

Then his eyes slid back to Chloe.

‘Witnesses don’t live long.’

Leo hauled him upright by the collar.

‘Names.’

But the shooter clamped his jaw shut.

Not brave.

Just trained.

A woman in a charcoal coat appeared at the service entrance before Leo could hit him again.

She was in her forties, severe, beautiful in a way that made warmth feel optional, and she carried a leather case instead of a purse.

Sofia Vale.

Chloe didn’t know the name yet, but the kitchen staff reacted to her the way everyone reacted to Dominic: they made room before she asked.

Sofia took in the broken arm, the zip ties, the gun in Leo’s hand, the blood on the tile, Chloe’s apron, and the card in Dominic’s fingers.

Her eyes missed nothing.

‘I passed three police cruisers coming up Charles Street,’ she said.

‘We have minutes.’

‘Then use them,’ Dominic replied.

Sofia was already moving.

She bagged the weapon with gloves from her case, photographed the shooter’s pockets, took the burner phone from Leo, and handed Chloe a bottle of water without asking if she wanted one.

Only after all that did she speak directly to her.

‘You’re Chloe Bennett?’ she asked.

Chloe nodded.

‘Did you write the warning?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.

You’re going to tell me everything in order, and you’re not going home tonight.’

The last sentence landed like a verdict.

Callahan emerged again when Leo returned with a tablet from the SUV outside.

He had found his outrage now that another adult in a suit was present.

‘This is kidnapping,’ he snapped.

‘You can’t keep people here.

Let the police handle it.’

Sofia didn’t even look at him.

‘The police are going to love this,’ she said, tapping the screen.

‘Especially the part where you open the service alley at 8:47 p.m.

for the man in the olive jacket and hand him an envelope.’

Callahan’s color vanished so fast Chloe thought he might faint.

Leo turned the screen so Chloe could see.

The image was grainy, taken from the dashboard camera of a black SUV parked across the street.

Rain silvered the alley.

The time stamp glowed in the corner.

And there was Callahan, unmistakable in his white shirt and vest, stepping into the alley with a man in an olive jacket.

He passed over a thick envelope and a folded piece of paper.

The shooter tucked both inside his coat and entered through the kitchen door two minutes later.

Chloe made a small sound she didn’t recognize as her own.

Callahan lunged for the tablet.

Leo caught him by the throat and pinned him against the wall so hard the dry-storage shelves rattled.

‘Careful,’ Leo said.

‘You only get one neck.’

‘They threatened my daughter,’ Callahan rasped.

‘You don’t understand.

They said if I didn’t help them, they’d take her on the walk to school.’

Dominic’s expression did not