# Noah Lancaster's POV#
The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. Three million dollars. My fingers.
Marcus watches my face carefully, gauging my reaction. The morning fog swirls around us, but I feel like I'm drowning in ice water.
"Shane Huxley," I repeat slowly. "Here. For my fingers."
"The Donovans don't mess around," Marcus says. "Gabriel may be a spoiled rich boy, but his family has connections that go back three generations. Old money. Old grudges."
My phone buzzes. I glance at the screen and see Victoria's name.
"Answer it," Marcus advises. "You'll want to hear this."
I swipe to accept the call.
"Noah!" Victoria's voice is frantic, breathless. "Thank God you picked up. Are you somewhere safe?"
"I'm fine. What's wrong?"
"Everything's wrong! I just got off the phone with my contact at the FBI. There's a contract out on you. Professional grade. Six million dollars."
Six million. Marcus said three. The number keeps climbing.
"Victoria, slow down—"
