Chicago. Three Days Earlier.
Jesse Cervante stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his father's penthouse, looking out over the city lights. Twenty-eight years old, handsome in the way of men who'd never been told no, he radiated the dangerous confidence of someone who'd inherited power without earning it.
"You're making a mistake." His father's consigliere, Antonio, stood near the door. The old man had survived three regime changes through caution and wisdom. "The Falco organization isn't what it was, but it's not defenseless."
"It's being run by a woman." Jesse didn't turn around. "Theron's little sister, who spent the last decade playing house with some nobody. She doesn't know this life."
"She's survived six months as head of the organization. That means something."
"It means th
