MY FRIENDS SET ME UP ON A "PRANK" BLIND DATE WITH BOSTON’S MOST FEARED MOB BOSS—BUT WHEN HE PULLED OUT HIS PHONE, THEY WERE THE ONES BEGGING FOR MERCY!

I opened the door only as far as the security chain allowed. "What do you want, Jason?"

Jason pushed his hand against the wood, trying to force it wider, his face flushed with an ugly mix of arrogance and desperation. "Emily! Unlatch the chain! We need to talk right now!"

"We haven't had anything to talk about in fourteen months," I said coldly.

"Don't give me that self-righteous attitude!" he hissed, his eyes darting down the hallway as if someone were watching him. "My accounts were frozen this morning! The loan sharks from the East Boston docks came to my office! They told me my debt was purchased by the Brooks Syndicate! Did you go running to Daniel Brooks? Are you insane?"

The pieces clicked together in my mind. Daniel hadn't just paid off the bank—he had acquired Jason's personal promissory notes from the underground bookmakers Jason had been hiding from.

"I didn't run to anyone, Jason. You made your bed."

"You don't know who that man is!" Jason snarled, grabbing the edge of the door. "He’s a butcher, Emily! He runs the waterfront with an iron fist! If you think he’s helping you out of the goodness of his heart, you’re stupider than I thought! He’s using you as a shield against the federal task force! Open this door and give me your shop's deed—we can sell the property today and get out of Massachusetts before he buries both of us!"

"She won't be going anywhere with you, Mr. Miller."

A voice like cracking ice resonated from the staircase behind Jason.

Jason froze. He turned around slowly, his face draining of all color.

Daniel Brooks stood on the landing, flanked by Vincenzo and another security operator. Daniel was wearing a charcoal wool overcoat over an impeccably tailored three-piece suit. He climbed the remaining three steps with an effortless, predatory grace that made Jason shrink back against the hallway wallpaper.

"Brooks..." Jason squeaked, raising his hands defensively. "Look, this is a private conversation between me and my ex-fiancée—"

"You forfeited any claim to privacy when you forged her signature on bank affidavits," Daniel interrupted in a quiet, conversational cadence that held terrifying weight. He stopped barely six inches from Jason, towering over him. "And you forfeited your right to breathe Boston air unmolested when you defaulted on three hundred thousand dollars owed to my associates."

"I... I can pay it!" Jason stammered, trembling uncontrollably. "Just give me time!"

Daniel didn't raise his voice. He reached out and adjusted the lapel of Jason's expensive leather jacket with fastidious precision. "You have until sunset to vacate this commonwealth, Jason. If my men spot your vehicle north of the Connecticut border after midnight, we will discuss your amortization schedule in an entirely different setting. Am I clear?"

Jason didn't even look back at me. He nodded frantically, stumbled down the hallway stairs, and fled into the morning street like a terrified dog.

Daniel waited until the downstairs door slammed shut before turning to face me. He looked at my hand holding the apartment door.