Chapter 2 – THE ASSASSIN WITH THE COBRA TATTOO

Glass rained across the boardroom as three men in tactical gear burst through the doors.

Jack didn’t flinch. He grabbed my arm, yanking me under the massive oak table just as suppressed gunfire chewed through the leather chairs where we had been sitting seconds before.

“Stay down!” Jack roared.

His two bodyguards returned fire, the deafening noise echoing through the corporate suite. I huddled on the carpet, clutching my mother’s silver bracelet to my chest.

Jack pulled a weapon from his ankle holster. He moved with a terrifying, fluid grace, rising up to fire twice. Two of the attackers dropped.

The third man vaulted over the table.

Jack tackled him mid-air. They crashed into the glass wall, spider-webbing the reinforced pane. As the man struggled, his sleeve rode up, revealing a distinct, crimson cobra tattooed on his wrist.

Jack froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening.

The assassin used the hesitation to break free, sprinting down the hallway.

Jack didn’t chase him. He rushed back to me, pulling me to my feet. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I choked out. “Who are they?”

“My uncle’s men,” Jack said, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked. “The cobra is his personal syndicate’s mark.”

“Why are they attacking us here?”

“Because,” Jack said, looking at the silver bracelet in my hand. “Your mother didn’t just witness a murder. She stole something from my uncle. Something he’s still looking for.”

He grabbed my hand. “We have to go to your apartment. Now.”

“Why?” I panicked.

“Because whatever she stole,” Jack said grimly, “she hid it in your winter coat.”

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