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I pull out my phone and text Damiano:VIKTOR’S LOOKING FOR LIAM. ASKING QUESTIONS. STAY AWAY FROM THE VAULT.

Then, after a moment’s hesitation, I add:AND ME.

The reply comes almost instantly:WHAT DID YOU TELL HIM?

NOTHING. BUT HE KNOWS WE WERE AT THE PARTY. SOMEONE SAW US.

The three dots appear, disappear, then appear again.BRIAR?

SAFE FOR NOW. HE DIDN’T MENTION HER.

I watch Viktor talk to the fishermen, gesturing with those massive hands of his. They’re nodding, faces serious. Shit’s escalating faster than I expected.

My phone buzzes again:BE CAREFUL. HE’S DANGEROUS.

I KNOW WHAT HE IS.

And I do. I’ve seen Viktor “handle” problems before. People who start fights at The Vault don’t just get thrown out. They get lessons they never forget. Broken fingers. Dislocated shoulders. The lucky ones only need stitches. The rumor is he did worse stuffbefore coming to Heathens Hollow, though nobody knows exactly what. Some say military. Some say mob. I never cared enough to find out.

Now I wish I had.

The fishermen disperse, heading out the door with purpose. Viktor follows them, pausing at the threshold to look back at me. Our eyes lock across the room, and for a second, I see something that makes my blood run cold. He doesn’t believe me.

The door closes behind him, and I exhale slowly. I need to warn Briar. If Viktor connects her to Liam’s disappearance...

“So,” Mari says, reappearing from the back room. “What was that about?”

“Liam’s missing.” I keep my voice neutral. “Viktor’s worried.”

She snorts. “Liam’s probably face-down in some tourist’s bed. Or in some ditch drunk. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“You okay? You look pale.”

“Fine,” I lie. “Just tired and hungover.”

The door swings open again, and my heart stops before I realize it’s only Locke Hartwell, one of The Vault’s owners. He strides in like he owns the place—which, technically, he does—dressed in his usual all-black designer suit, silver rings glinting on his fingers.

“Bishop,” he says, nodding at me. “Interestingnight ahead.”

“How so?”

He leans against the bar, lowering his voice. “Viktor’s offering ten thousand to anyone with information about his brother. Cash. No questions asked.”

Fuck.

“That’ll bring out every liar and con artist on the island.” I try to sound casual.

“Exactly.” Locke smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Which means we’ll be busy tonight. People will be coming in to gossip, hoping to overhear something worth ten grand. I need you on your game.”

“Always am.”

Locke glances around the bar, then leans in closer. “Also, the partners had a meeting this morning. We’re hosting another Hunt on the summer equinox.”

I keep my face neutral even as my stomach drops. “Bit early in the season, isn’t it? Thought you guys usually waited until the Harvest Moon.”

“We’re making an exception.” His fingers tap against the polished wood. “Demand’s high this year. Lots of new money from Seattle wanting to experience island traditions.”