The Rottweiler lunged. Its teeth sank into the flesh of Amari's calf.

Amari let out a weak, breathless scream. Her body jerked against the rough bark of the oak tree.

Kyler stood ten feet away. He threw his head back and laughed. He held his phone up, recording the blood dripping down Amari's leg.

Inside the living room, Delma and Jazmyne sat on the white sofa. They clinked two crystal glasses of red wine together.

A low rumble vibrated through the floorboards. The sound grew louder. It turned into a deafening, rhythmic chopping noise.

Outside, a massive gust of wind hit the backyard. The plastic lawn chairs flipped over and smashed against the fence.

Kyler lowered his phone. He looked up. Three massive black helicopters hovered directly over the house.

The noise was absolute. The Rottweiler flattened its ears. It released Amari's leg. It tucked its tail between its legs and bolted under the porch.

The lead helicopter didn't touch the ground. The side door slid open.

Andres grabbed a thick black rope. He slid down. He dropped fifteen feet and hit the muddy grass. His knees bent to absorb the impact.

He didn't pause. He sprinted straight toward the oak tree, his medical kit swinging from his shoulder, his eyes locked entirely on the bleeding little girl.

Behind him, a heavily armored tactical guard slid down the rope. The guard landed, his rifle already raised. He aimed. He pulled the trigger.

Bang. The bullet hit the dog under the porch. Its head snapped back. It dropped dead.

Kyler dropped his phone. He screamed. His legs gave out. He collapsed into a puddle of mud.

Andres sprinted to the oak tree. He saw Amari slumped against the trunk. Her dress was soaked in blood.

His eyes turned rimmed with red. His hands shook as he grabbed the thick nylon rope. He pulled a folding knife from his pocket and sliced through the knots.

The tension released. Amari fell forward. Andres dropped the knife. He caught her. Her small, limp body pressed against his chest.

The other two helicopters touched down on the street in front of the house.

Fifteen tactical guards kicked the wrought-iron front gates open. They swarmed the porch. They smashed the front door off its hinges.

Delma jumped. The wine glass slipped from her fingers. It shattered on the expensive Persian rug. Red wine soaked into the fabric like blood.

Jazmyne opened her mouth to scream. A guard grabbed her by the back of the neck. He slammed her face-down onto the glass coffee table. The glass cracked.

Barron walked through the broken doorway. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit.

His leather shoes stepped on the broken wine glass. The shards crunched under his weight.

He stopped in front of the sofa. He looked down at the two women. His eyes held the cold, empty stare of a man looking at roadkill.

Outside, sirens wailed. Four state police cruisers skidded to a halt at the end of the street.

The officers got out. They looked at the men in tactical gear. They looked at the helicopters. They pulled yellow tape from their trunks and blocked off the street. They did not take a single step closer.

Andres ran out of the backyard. He held Amari tight against his chest.

A medical team rushed out of the lead chopper. They pushed a mobile stretcher across the lawn.

Andres laid Amari on the white mattress. He grabbed an oxygen mask and strapped it over her pale face.

He turned to Barron. "She's losing too much blood. We need a Level 1 trauma center right now."

The medics pushed the stretcher up the ramp into the helicopter. Andres jumped in behind them. The doors slammed shut. The chopper lifted off, leaving the house behind.

The hallway of the private VIP floor was dead silent. Twenty men in black suits stood against the walls. Their hands rested over their waists. They didn't blink.

Inside the massive suite, five men stood around the hospital bed.

The Chief of Surgery stood at the foot of the bed. He held a tablet displaying an X-ray. His hands trembled. The tablet shook.

He pointed to the screen. "There are multiple fractures along the rib cage. Some are fresh. Others show calcification, indicating they broke months ago and healed without medical intervention."

Andres turned around. He slammed his fist into the stainless-steel medical supply cabinet. The metal caved in with a loud bang.

Colonel Johnie stood by the window. He clenched his jaw. The sound of his teeth grinding echoed in the quiet room.

Professor Elwin took off his gold-rimmed glasses. He pulled a microfiber cloth from his pocket and wiped the lenses. His eyes, usually calm, were dark and murderous.

Finley turned his back to the bed. He stared at the blank wall. His broad shoulders shook violently. He pressed the heel of his hand against his mouth.

The heavy wooden door clicked open. Two nurses pushed a wheelchair into the room.

Evalyn sat in the chair. She wore a loose hospital gown. Her skin was translucent. Her lips were colorless.

Barron stepped forward instantly. He dropped to one knee beside the wheelchair. He reached out and grabbed her cold hand.

Evalyn pulled her hand away. She didn't look at him. Her eyes locked onto the small figure lying on the bed.

She gripped the armrests. She pushed herself up. Her legs trembled violently. Her knees buckled.

Andres rushed forward. He grabbed her waist. He supported her weight and walked her to the side of the bed.

Evalyn leaned over. Her shaking fingers reached out. She touched the white gauze wrapped around Amari's cheek.

Tears spilled from Evalyn's eyes. They fell fast and heavy. They hit the crisp white sheets, leaving dark, wet spots.

Amari's long eyelashes fluttered. The movement was slow.

She opened her eyes. The bright lights made her blink. Her vision cleared.

She saw Evalyn's face. Amari's pupils dilated. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"Mommy?" she croaked. Her voice sounded like dry sandpaper rubbing together.

Evalyn collapsed forward. She buried her face into Amari's small, uninjured hand. Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed aloud.

Amari turned her head slightly. She saw the five massive men standing around the bed. They wore expensive suits and military uniforms. They stared at her.

Amari shrank back into the pillows. Her eyes darted around the room.

Evalyn wiped her face with the back of her hand. She sniffled. "It's okay, baby. These are your uncles."

Barron stepped closer to the bed. He forced the muscles in his face to relax. He smiled. He reached his hand out to stroke Amari's hair.

Amari flinched. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her head away sharply. She braced her body for a hit.

Barron's hand froze in mid-air. The smile died on his face. His chest tightened as if a steel band wrapped around his ribs.

The flinch hit every man in the room like a physical blow.

Johnie spun around. He marched out of the room. He pulled his phone from his pocket.

He walked down the hall. He dialed a number. "Deploy the private contractors. Surround the precinct."

Barron stood up straight. He adjusted his silk tie. The cold, ruthless stare of the Wall Street predator returned to his eyes.

He looked at his brothers. "It's time to make those pieces of trash pay."

Barron turned on his heel. He took a step toward the door to begin the interrogation.

Amari reached out. Her small hand, free of IV lines, grabbed the bottom edge of Barron's suit jacket. She gripped the expensive fabric tight.

Barron stopped instantly. He turned back. He bent at the waist, bringing his face level with hers.

Amari swallowed hard. "I want to take Ghost."

Andres frowned. "Who is Ghost? Is there another child trapped in that house?"

Amari shook her head. "No. He's a black cat. He lives in the shed in the backyard."

Evalyn stroked Amari's hair. She looked up at her brothers. "He was the only friend she had."

Elwin smiled gently. "We can buy you any cat in the world, Amari."

Amari shook her head stubbornly. Tears pooled in her eyes. She tried to sit up, but the movement pulled her fractured ribs. She gasped and fell back.

Finley rushed forward. He placed his large hands gently on her shoulders. "Don't move. We'll get him. I promise."

Barron checked his watch. He looked at Andres. "Prep the heavy medical transport. We go together."

Ten minutes later, a massive mobile ICU truck pulled up to the hospital entrance. Four medics rolled Amari's bed inside. Andres pushed Evalyn's wheelchair next to it. Six armored SUVs formed a convoy.

Miles away, inside Delma's living room, the air was thick with tension. Delma and Jazmyne sat on the sofa, their hands zip-tied behind their backs. Four tactical guards stood in the corners like stone statues.

Jazmyne thrashed. "You can't do this! My family will have you thrown in federal prison!"

The guard captain stared at her with dead eyes. He walked over, pulled a dirty rag from his vest, and shoved it into her mouth.

Outside, the rumble of heavy diesel engines shook the windows. Tires screeched. The mobile ICU truck parked directly in front of the broken gates.

The guards inside moved to the entrance. The ruined doorway was suddenly filled with bright afternoon sunlight.

The sudden glare hit Delma's face. She squinted.

When her eyes adjusted, she looked at the doorway.

Evalyn sat in a wheelchair, wearing a hospital gown. Her posture was rigid. Her eyes locked onto Delma with pure, concentrated hatred.

Delma's breath caught in her throat. The blood drained from her face. The woman she thought was a brain-dead vegetable was staring right at her.