“It is not a chess move?” Tatiana asks.

“No.”

“Send me the first video.” Her voice holds a tone I recognize. One that tells me she’s caught a scent. If she has, she won’t let go until she knows exactly where it leads.

“Uploading now.”

* * *

Forty-five minutes later,I pull the black knit cap lower as the car coasts to a gentle stop two streets over from where I pray Ulrich is holding Gemma. Unbeknownst to me, Tatiana started trying to triangulate Ulrich’s location from the moment he left Gemma’s flat. She’d already tracked him to this sector of the city, but lost the car because of a faulty traffic camera.

There’s only one street in this area with the word Lord in the name, and two entire blocks around it are slated to be demolished in a month. I can feel it. Ulrich is close. He’d want somewhere no one would see him. Somewhere she could scream.

The video haunts me. The bruises on her face, her neck. I did this to her. Ulrich may have thrown the punches, but Gemma is suffering because of me.

“It is done,” Tatiana says in my ear. “You must be gone in fifteen minutes, Daniel. If you are not, I cannot help you.”

“You’ve done enough.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “More than enough. For so many years. I owe you my life ten times over, Tati.”

“You do. And you will repay me by putting an end to Ulrich for good. In case we do not speak again, goodbye, Daniel.”

I crush the earbud under my heel, sling my bag over my shoulder, and take off at a run. My shoes make almost no noise on the empty sidewalks, and the streetlights are mostly broken in this run-down neighborhood. Still, I keep to the shadows. Listening.

On Lordship Lane, I slow and pull a tiny device out of my pocket. Flicking the switch, I wait for the light to blink green, then red. No cell signals in the first house. I know Ulrich. He’ll stick to the middle row houses, wanting as much space on each side of him as possible.

Six houses later, the light flips to green, and I press myself against the front wall of a dilapidated two story tear-down. The signal isn’t strong enough yet, so I creep forward until I see a faint light coming from the front window of the next house over. The curtains are drawn, but this has to be it.

Scaling the fence, I drop down against the side wall. Brilliant. Tatiana was right. A hopper window at ground level. On the video call, the arse holding Gemma was standing in front of a bare concrete wall. A basement wall. I withdraw a set of tools from my bag and have the lock picked in under a minute, the entire window pane removed in two. Nine minutes until Gemma and I have to be out of here. Fuck me.

The basement is blessedly empty, only a dim bulb in the center of the room providing any light. A single table and chair, a few boxes. Nothing else save for a set of stairs leading up to the ground floor and a door in the corner. With a padlock on it.

It takes me only seconds to pick it, and when the door swings open, my heart shatters.

Gemma is huddled in the corner, her arms tied behind her back, her head on her bent knees. She shudders and stifles a sob but doesn’t react to me at all.

“Gemma.”

No response. Wherever her mind is, she can’t hear me.

“Gemma. Look at me,” I order as I kneel next to her. I don’t want to touch her until she knows who I am, but how can I reach her? “Pawn to e4.”

Her breath hitches, and she stills.

“Pawn to e4,” I repeat. “Your move, Gemma.”

Her voice is barely a whisper, rough and hoarse. “Pawn to c5.”

“The Sicilian Defense. Your favorite.” I try to keep my tone gentle, but if she doesn’t recognize me soon, I’ll have to scoop her up and run, damn her fear.

“Daniel?” She squints up at me, her eyes unfocused and wild. “I can’t…see…”

Pulling her glasses from my pocket, I slide them onto her nose. They’re a little crooked; one of the ear pieces isn’t completely straight any longer. Gemma’s left eye is almost swollen shut, but she scans my face and her lower lip wobbles.

“You came.”

“Of course I did,bijou. No one takes what’s mine. And you,” I meet her gaze before I reach behind her and cut the ropes around her wrists, “are definitely mine.”

“You lied to me.”