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“Go to hell!” I growl out, straining against my bonds. But they don’t budge, not one goddamn inch.

“Brave words,” he taunts. “But we both know what happens next, don’t we?”

“Bring it on, asshole!” I shout, glaring at him with every ounce of hatred inside me. “I’m not scared of you!”

“Good,” he replies as if pleased. “That makes this so much more… exciting.”

“Fuck you and your sick games!” I hiss.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. You see…” he leans in closer, his breath hot on my face, “… you’re the one who’s been playing games, Aurora. And now it’s time for you to pay.”

“Like hell,” I snarl, tensing up as he circles me like a predator stalking its prey. “You think tying me up and throwing me in some shitty barn is gonna break me? You don’t know shit!”

He stops behind me, and I feel the cold press of a knife against my throat. My pulse races, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared.

“Wh-what’s that?” I force out, trying to keep my voice steady.

“By the time I’m done with you…” he whispers, “… you’ll be begging for death.”

“Fuck. You.” I choke out, fighting the urge to scream. “Just fucking try it.”

“Welcome back,” he sneers, slamming his fist into my face. Instantly, darkness swallows me whole.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Felix Greyson

I’m sitting at Matteo’s place, waiting for Spike and Angel to show their damn faces. Eleanor, ever the hostess, comes up to me with a concerned look in her eyes. “Would you like some tea, Felix?” she asks, holding a dainty little cup and saucer.

“Fuck no,” I say, my stomach churning like it’s trying to escape my body. The adrenaline coursing through my veins makes me feel like I’m about to explode. I’m not used to this shit. Normally, I’d have someone’s face to smash in by now, but all I got is this goddamn worry for Aurora.

Eleanor shrugs and sets the teacup on a nearby table. She knows better than to push me when I’m like this. My thoughts are racing, images of Aurora haunting every corner of my mind. I can see her dark eyes, the pain hidden deep within them. Then I see her long, black hair and the tattoos that tell her story, each one a reminder of the life she’s been fighting to survive.

I’m sitting here, my mind racing, when the door opensand in walks a kid. He must be around twelve or so, with shaggy black hair and blue eyes that look oddly familiar. He’s carrying a laptop under one arm, and he makes himself at home, plopping down right next to me on the couch.

“Hi,” he says, sticking out his hand. “I’m Niko.”

“Great,” I mutter, not giving a shit who he is as long as he can help me find Aurora. “What do you need?”

“Can you describe Aurora to me?” Niko asks, opening up his laptop. “I’m developing this facial recognition software, and if you can give me enough details, maybe I can find her. Or y’know, if you have a photo, that’d be even better.”

“Seriously?” I say, staring at him in disbelief. “You’re what, fucking twelve? What the hell do you know about facial recognition?”

“More than you, probably,” he shoots back, unfazed by my attitude. His fingers are already flying across the keyboard, tap-tap-tapping away like he was born to do this shit.

“Fine,” I growl, digging through my phone for a picture of Aurora. I find one from a few weeks back when we went out for dinner. She’s smiling, with her dark eyes sparkling and her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders. I hate looking at it, thinking about how far away she is now, but I don’t have a choice.

“Here,” I say, airdropping the photo to Niko’s laptop. “You better find her.”

“Chill out, man,” he says, taking the photo and starting his program. “I’ll do my best, but it’s not like she’s just gonna pop up on the screen right away.”

“Whatever,” I snap, leaning back in my seat and runninga hand through my hair. My heart is still racing, and I can’t help but imagine all the fucked-up things that might be happening to Aurora right now. And all I can do is sit here, waiting for some kid to work his magic.

I glare at the kid, then whip my head around to Eleanor standing in the doorway. “Who the fuck is this kid?” I demand.

“Watch your language,” she snaps back, her eyes flashing daggers. “Say hi to Niko Ricci. He’s mine and Matteo’s son, but that information never leaves this house. You hear me?”

I stare at her, speechless for a moment. “What the fuck,” I manage, still trying to wrap my head ‘round it. “You guys have a kid no one knows about?”