The Untouchable Widow's Ruthless Vengeance

The black SUV slammed to a halt right at the front entrance of the Manhattan club, tires slicing through the puddles and sending a spray of dirty rainwater across the sidewalk.

Gage was out of the passenger seat in a second. He popped open a massive black umbrella and positioned it perfectly by the rear door.

Ember stepped out. Her red-soled heels sank directly into the deep puddle, the cold water soaking through the leather instantly. She didn't flinch. She registered the ruin of a thousand-dollar shoe with the same cold detachment she registered the bouncer's aggression. Both were obstacles to be ignored.

A heavy-set bouncer in a cheap suit lunged forward, his hand raised to block her path. "Private event, lady. No invite, no entry."

Gage's hand shot out. He grabbed the bouncer's wrist and twisted it violently until the man's arm was pinned behind his back, his face smashed against the brick wall. The bouncer let out a muffled groan of pain.

Ember didn't even look at them. She reached out and pushed open the heavy, soundproof doors of the club.

A wall of sound hit her. Deafening bass vibrated through her ribs, mixed with the high-pitched shrieks of drunk socialites. The sudden rush of cold night air from the open door swept through the room.

People on the dance floor turned, shivering from the draft. The music thumped on.

Ember walked straight through the crowd. She didn't dodge the dancers; they parted for her, sensing the cold fury radiating off her. She headed directly for the VIP section.

Her eyes adjusted to the flashing neon lights. She locked onto the target.

In the corner booth, Kian Vance had a young girl pinned against the velvet cushions. Her shirt was torn at the collar, her mascara running down her cheeks as she struggled against his grip.

Haden Baldwin sat in the shadows across from them. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the scene with cold, detached amusement.

Ember reached out and snatched an empty whiskey bottle from a passing waiter's tray. She didn't break her stride.

She brought the heavy glass bottle down against the wall right next to Kian's head. The explosion of shattering glass was so violent it made the DJ jump, his hand reflexively slamming the crossfader to zero. The heavy bass cut out, plunging the club into a ringing silence broken only by the crunch of glass under her heel.

Kian flinched, his hand flying to the side of his face. A shard of glass had sliced his cheek. A thin line of blood appeared. He whipped his head around, his eyes wide with rage.

Then he recognized her. The rage twisted into a sneer. "Well, well. If it isn't the Baldwin widow." He spat the words, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "Still spreading your legs for the family fortune?"

Ember let out a short, cold laugh. She stepped forward, her heels crushing the broken glass. The crunching sound was the only noise in the club.

She raised her hand and slapped Kian across the face. The crack of her palm against his skin was sharp and final.

Kian's head snapped to the side. He roared, pulling his arm back to throw a punch.

Gage appeared from behind. His foot connected with the back of Kian's knee. A sickening crack echoed through the room.

Kian collapsed onto the glass-strewn floor, crying out as the shards dug into his knees.

Ember crouched down. She picked up the largest piece of broken glass from the floor. She pressed the jagged edge against Kian's neck, right over his carotid artery.

The sharp glass bit into his skin. A thin line of dark red blood welled up and trickled down his neck.

Kian froze. He looked into her eyes and saw nothing but absolute, terrifying emptiness. His body began to shake. "P-please," he stammered.

"Apologize to her," Ember said, her voice low and steady. "Then get out of New York. If I see your face again, I'll carve it off."

"I'm sorry!" Kian sobbed, looking at the terrified girl on the couch. "I'm sorry! I'll go! I'm leaving!" He scrambled to his feet the moment Ember pulled the glass away, stumbling over himself as he ran for the exit.

Ember stood up. She tossed the bloody piece of glass onto the table. She pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from her clutch and slowly wiped the blood off her fingers.

She turned her head. Her eyes locked onto Haden, who hadn't moved from his spot in the shadows.

"Nephew," she said clearly, the word cutting through the silent room.

Haden's hand tightened around his whiskey glass. A hairline crack appeared in the crystal. He squeezed harder until the glass shattered in his grip, whiskey and blood mixing on the table.