I turn slowly in place, pulse hammering.
“Do you see anything?” I ask, eyes straining.
Still no answer.
Sasha grabs my arm, her fingers digging into my coat. “We need to leave. Now.”
We start to move again—hurried steps, adrenaline pressing at the edges of my vision.
Then a sound cuts through the silence.
A soft click.
We both freeze.
Across the shipyard, maybe thirty yards away, a black SUV sits in the shadows. Engine off. Lights off. I hadn’t even seen it until now.
The rear door swings open with slow, deliberate ease.
A man steps out.
Dressed in black. No markings. No words. No rush.
He doesn’t look at us. Not directly. But every fiber of my body feels it—the gravity of his presence, the weight of his intent.
He didn’t come to negotiate.
He came to collect.
32
LIAM
Itake the turn too fast, tires screeching as I barrel down the narrow side street toward the safehouse. Every second stretches like wire, tight and trembling. My heart’s in my throat, pounding hard enough I swear I can hear it over the engine.
Please be there. Please be there. Please be there.
The text is burned into my brain.You should’ve kept a better eye on your little girlfriend. She’s already gone.
I don’t know who sent it. I don’t know how they knew. All I know is if they touched her—if they laid a single finger on Ana or Lily—I will burn this entire goddamn city down.
I slam the car into park and leap out before the engine’s even stopped fully. Shane’s not outside. That’s the first bad sign. There’s no sign of movement through the front windows, no one coming to meet me. My gut clenches tighter.
I slam the car into park and leap out before the engine’s even stopped fully. Shane’s not outside. That’s the first bad sign. There’s no sign of movement through the front windows, no one coming to meet me. My gut clenches tighter.
I take the steps two at a time, punching in the code with fingers that barely feel like mine. The door swings open… and everything’s still.
Too still.
“Ana?” I call out, my voice echoing in the silence. “Ana, it’s me!”
Nothing.
I move fast, eyes sweeping the living room.
The couch is empty—one of Lily’s blankets bunched up on the armrest, a pacifier abandoned on the coffee table.
Still no sign of her. My chest tightens as I push open the bedroom door—and my heart nearly stops.