The cold weight of the pistol in my hand was the only thing keeping me grounded. I stood in the flickering fluorescent light of the hallway, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. David was right beside me, his breathing heavy with a mixture of greed and panic. He smelled of expensive cologne and sweat. He was talking, his voice a low, frantic stream of instructions about leverage, board seats, and securing the assets.

I didn't care about the board. I didn't care about the Wilson money. I looked through the doorway of the small, white room and saw them.

Three of them. Three women with the...