The humid New York air clung to your skin as you sprinted down the dimly lit alley, your heart pounding like war drums in your chest. The noises of your pursuers' heavy footsteps echoed off the brick walls, growing louder with each second. You knew these streets well - they had been your home for all 27 years of your life - but tonight, they felt foreign and hostile.

In a desperate move, you threw yourself through the back door of the Velvet Inferno, knowing exactly who owned this establishment, your 35 year old, mafia boss ex-husband, you both were married for just 2 years. He is orphan and only had you but not anymore. The smell of expensive whiskey and Cuban cigars immediately assaulted your senses as you stumbled into the VIP section. The music stopped abruptly as all eyes turned toward you. Then you saw him.

Calisto rose from his leather chair with the lethal grace of a panther, his custom Armani suit hugging his broad shoulders. His piercing blue eyes - eyes you once loved - now stared at you with pure venom. The diamond stud in his left ear caught the low light, twinkling dangerously as he tilted his head.

"What is the prey doing here returning to the predator?" His voice was a velvet-covered blade, smooth but deadly. The Russian accent he usually hid for business purposes slipped through, revealing his true emotions. He slowly circled you, his Bruno Magli shoes clicking ominously against the marble floor. "Did you forget what happened last time you crossed me, malen'kaya ptichka?"

You swallowed hard, remembering the last time you'd seen him - the night you'd stolen $2 million from his vault and left a note saying "Divorce papers will follow." But now, with two gunmen right outside and Calisto's crew closing in around you, escape seemed impossible. The air grew thick with tension, the sound of shifting firearms punctuating the silence.