Novels by Frostlyn Kate

Blake stood in his office, holding the blood-soaked blanket with gloved hands. Sam was photographing it from every angle, documenting evidence they'd never use in any court. This wasn't about justice anymore. This was about survival.Emma appeared in the doorway. She'd been in the next room when the package arrived. One look at her face told Blake she already knew."Show me," she said.Blake hesitated. "Emma—""Show. Me."He held up the blanket. Watched his wife's face go from pale to red to absolutely white. Her hands clenched into fists. Her breathing stopped, then started again too fast."That's not—" Blake started. "The blood isn't real. It's probably animal blood, staged for effect."Emma walked forward, took the note from his hand. Read it slowly. "'Choose.' They want us to choose which of our children dies.""They're bluffing. Trying to scare us—""They killed our baby!" Emma's voice cracked like a whip. "They killed our unborn child with stress and attacks and now they're thre

The ambulance screamed through city streets, sirens wailing. Blake sat beside Emma's stretcher, holding her hand, watching paramedics work frantically. Blood pressure dropping. Pulse weak. The bleeding wouldn't stop."Stay with me," Blake whispered. "Emma, please."Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused. "The baby?"Blake couldn't answer. Didn't know what to say. The paramedic met his eyes, shook her head slightly.They reached the hospital in seven minutes. Emma was rushed into emergency surgery. Blake followed as far as they'd let him, then security stopped him at the surgical doors."Family waiting room is down the hall," a nurse said gently.Blake stood frozen, Emma's blood still on his hands. Literally on his hands.Sam arrived within minutes, having followed the ambulance. He took one look at Blake and guided him to a sink, helped him wash the blood away. Neither man spoke. What was there to say?Diana appeared next, still in her surgical scrubs from her own hospital. "I heard. Is s

The voice on Nikolai's phone was familiar in a way that sent ice through his veins—not fear, but recognition. He'd heard recordings of this man. Vincent Cross, the lawyer who'd orchestrated attacks against Blake Sterling years ago. The man who'd supposedly died when Blake's counter-operation collapsed a tunnel on him."You're supposed to be dead," Nikolai said.Vincent laughed, low and bitter. "So are you, if Blake Sterling had his way. Seems we both have a talent for survival."Nikolai paced the safe house, still furious about the fake USB drive. "How did you survive? The reports said—""Reports lie. I made sure of that." Vincent's voice carried the satisfaction of a man who'd executed a perfect con. "The tunnel collapse was real. But I wasn't in it. I had my assistant there instead—a man who looked enough like me from behind, wearing my jacket. When Blake's people confirmed a body, they stopped looking.""Where have you been?""Rebuilding. Watching. Waiting." Vincent paused. "I've s

Blake's phone buzzed thirty seconds later. A video file.He pressed play with hands that had stopped shaking years ago—trained himself not to shake, not to show weakness. But watching his seven-year-old son bound to a chair in a concrete room, tears streaming down his face, Blake's carefully constructed control cracked."Daddy?" James's voice was small, terrified. "Daddy, where are you?"The camera shifted. Nikolai Volkov stepped into frame, placed a hand on James's shoulder. The boy flinched."Six hours," Nikolai said to the camera. "Abandoned subway tunnel beneath Morrison Street. Come alone with the USB drive, or I mail you pieces of your son." The video cut to black.Emma grabbed the phone from Blake's hand, watched it again, then screamed. It was a sound Blake had never heard from her—primal, maternal, the cry of a woman whose child had been stolen."We get him back," she said, her voice breaking. "Whatever it takes. Whatever he wants. We give it to him."Blake pulled her close.

Diana Gate stood in the center of Blake's study, arms crossed, jaw set. "I don't know anything about any evidence. I met Grace Sterling exactly once—in a hospital room two days before she died. We barely spoke."Blake studied his newly discovered half-sister. She had their mother's eyes, the same determined set to her shoulders. "The people who attacked you believe otherwise.""Then they're idiots." Diana's voice was sharp, clinical. Years as a surgeon had taught her to cut away emotion when necessary. "I was sedated most of that visit. Hospital policy after my car accident. I don't even remember what Grace looked like clearly."Sam entered the study with a tablet, his expression grim. "We interrogated the attackers. Their leader is Nikolai Volkov—Dimitri's nephew, third generation of that family's vendetta against the Sterlings."Blake's hands clenched. Another Volkov. Would this family's hatred never end?"Nikolai claims you were alone with Grace for seventeen minutes," Sam continue

Blake stared at his mother's final revelation until the words blurred.Diana. His half-sister. A daughter his mother gave up forty-five years ago. A Sterling who didn't know she was a Sterling.Emma found him still holding the letter an hour later."Blake? What's wrong?"He showed her the letter. Watched her read it. Watched her expression shift from confusion to shock."Your mother had another child," Emma said quietly."A daughter. Diana. She's out there somewhere. Doesn't know who she is. And according to my mother, she's in danger.""Then we find her." Emma's voice was certain. "We find her and we protect her."Blake hired investigators that afternoon. The best money could buy. Gave them everything from his mother's letter—Diana's birth name, approximate age, the adoption agency.The search took three weeks.Sam walked into Blake's office carrying a file. "Found her."Blake's hands trembled taking the folder. Opened it.Diana Martinez. Forty-five years old. Cardiologist practicing