Chapter 9 - Recognizing The Killer From Years Ago
The man’s name was Viktor Vance—no relation to my fake surname, but a ruthless enforcer operating out of the Chicago syndicate's brutal eastern branch.
Five years ago, hiding behind a metal dumpster in a freezing alley, I had watched Viktor plunge a hunting knife into a man's chest.
That man had been my older brother, Julian, who had tried to leave the syndicate with stolen ledgers detailing millions in illegal narcotics money.
Viktor had looked right toward my hiding spot after the murder, but I had managed to escape into the night, changing my name and running east.
Now, standing in the most exclusive ballroom in Manhattan, my brother’s killer was staring straight back at me with cold recognition.
His eyes widened in shock as he matched my face to the terrified girl he thought he had successfully hunted down half a decade ago.
My entire body went numb, the blood roaring in my ears like a freight train rushing down an unlit railway tunnel.
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“Savannah, you’re shaking,” Ricardo growled, his body shifting immediately into a protective, predatory stance as he sensed the sudden danger.
“We have to leave. Right now,” I choked out, my fingers clawing desperately at the fabric of Ricardo’s tuxedo jacket.
