Shane Prescott studied the approaching figure.

The short-haired woman stood by the elevator, the dark mole on her chin strikingly prominent. Her beige trench coat exuded professionalism, but her gaze was icy.

"Mom," Luna Valentine called softly.

Gwendolyn Valentine didn't even glance at Shane as she pressed the elevator button.

Shane took a polite step back. "I'll leave first."

As the doors closed, he caught Gwendolyn's scrutinizing glare slicing through him like a blade.

In the parking garage, Shane slammed his fist against the steering wheel.

He pulled out his phone to text Luna, typed a few words, then deleted them all.

Gwendolyn's hostility was unmistakable.

The Valentine family living room.

Gwendolyn threw her bag onto the sofa. "That Shane Prescott—your father looked into him."

Luna calmly changed her shoes. "Hmm."

"His father's a tomb raider! He never even went to college!" Gwendolyn's voice rose. "Have you lost your mind?"

Luna lifted her eyes. "He saved my life."

"That was the least he could do!" Gwendolyn trembled with anger. "Your grandfather's gone soft, but I won't watch you throw yourself into the fire!"

Luna turned toward the stairs. "I'm tired."

The bedroom lock clicked shut.

Leaning against the door, Luna pulled out her phone and stared at Shane's number for a long moment.

Finally, she sighed and tossed the phone onto the bed.

Kyle Grant's apartment was filled with the rich aroma of whiskey.

Shane walked in as Kyle was adding ice to a glass.

"Date go well?" Kyle swirled his drink.

Shane loosened his tie. "Her mother hates me."

Kyle chuckled. "Standard mother-in-law behavior."

"About the artifacts—"

"Not urgent." Kyle cut him off. "We got word from Myanmar."

Shane froze.

"Your adoptive father lost everything at the Myitkyina casino. They're holding him now." Kyle set down his glass. "Ten million ransom."

Three days later, Shane stood at the airport security checkpoint.

"Shane!"

Kyle approached with four bodyguards. "Got the tickets."

Shane frowned. "Too dangerous."

"I know the area." Kyle tapped the gun at his waist. "Brought the real deal this time."

The plane landed in Myanmar late at night.

The off-road vehicle sped along winding mountain roads. Shane gazed at the dark jungle outside, fingers absently tracing the knife at his belt.

"Look out!"

Kyle suddenly drew his weapon.

Four SUVs swerved from a side road, slamming into them!

CRASH!

The windshield shattered into a spiderweb.

Shane's throwing knife sliced through the air, embedding itself in a tire.

Gunfire erupted in the night.

When Shane kicked open the private gambling room, Silas Prescott cowered in a corner.

"Shane..." The old man raised a bloodied left hand, trembling. "I...I cut off two fingers..."

Shane's eyes reddened. "Let's go home."

In the car, Silas wept. "Turn me in...Only prison can stop me..."

Kyle silently handed over tissues.

Outside the window, Myanmar's starry sky blazed brilliantly.