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“He got in my way,” I say, tapping on my phone as we walk. Sasha’s sent over the text message log.

As I climb into the back of Kaz’s SUV a new message comes through. It’s not from Sasha or Mira’s phone.

A photo.

My heart skids to a halt.

“What is it?” Alexander leans through the two front seats. “Fuck.”

Bile rises in my throat. Familiar dread crawls up my back. A memory from decades ago. The scent of burnt flesh fills the cabin of the car.

I drag in a long breath.This is not that.

I glance back at the photo.

If she’s dead, the entire city is going to burn.

“Kaz. Drive faster.”

“Ithink you gave her too much.”

“I gave her what you put in the fucking syringe. How much was it?”

“Enough to knock her out for an hour or two, but she’s still asleep.”

Two male voices argue from somewhere behind me.

“She’s not sleeping.” The third voice is right in front of me. “She’s pretending.”

Slowly, I peek through one eye. Just enough to get some sense of my surroundings, but the man belonging to the third voice lines himself up right in my view.

“There she is.” He gives two hard pats to my cheek.

The headache I’ve been trying to fight offsince my senses came back to me, blows up. Throbbing pulses behind my eyes and my temples. I’d try to rub it away, except my hands are bound behind me.

“Handcuffs,” he says when I keep tugging.

I blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness of my surroundings while I look around. I’m in a narrow room. The walls are metal, and plywood planks make up the flooring.

It’s not a room at all. It’s a container.

“Who are you?” I keep my focus on the man standing in front of me.

The other two are off to his left, behind him, watching to see what he does. So obviously, he’s the leader. The other two are just his muscle.

Though on closer inspection, there’s a strong resemblance between the three of them. They all have thick, black hair brushed off from their faces showing off their chiseled faces, high cheekbones, and sharp jawlines. They have the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. If they weren’t in the middle of kidnapping me, I might call them handsome.

The man in front of me has a much stronger jawline then the other two. Maybe because he’s older? There’s a sprinkling of gray at his temples. While the other two are dressed in button-down shirts and jeans, he’s dressed in a pair of black slacks and a light gray button-down, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a thin black tie around his neck.

“I guess you’re the strong, silent type.” I say after nothing happens, and he’s still staring at me.

I lean to the right, putting the younger two in my sight. “How about you guys? Wanna share your names?”

Obviously, whatever drug they gave me has destroyed the very last of my braincells, because taunting my captors probably isn’t a great idea. But since I have no other ideas, and my hands are not only handcuffed behind the chair I’m sitting in, but my ankles are bound to its legs, sparring with them verbally is the only thing I have.

“Enzo Canteni.” The older one kicks my chair, dragging my attention back to him.

“That’s your name?” I ask.