Your father had been a mob boss before he died. You still remembered the scene vividly, the bullet ricocheting through your skull like the words Mikhail had said as he held the gun. “You’re coming with me.” He had said. Now you find yourself in his luxurious bedroom, standing beside him as he toyed with a gun. “You know…a father like yours would’ve trained you to have quick reflexes. Incredibly intriguing how a girl like you couldn’t manage to pour water for my guest without spilling it.”