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“Did you kill them?” she asks, peering up at me. She’s a pretty girl, with long brown hair and hazel eyes that remind me of Jay’s. I remember her standing on the stage while I bid, her chin tipped high and posture ramrod straight.

She’s not one to cower, that much is clear.

I arch a brow. “You mean the people bidding on you?”

“Aside from you? Yes.”

“I did,” I confirm.

She pauses for a beat, then looks away. “Good.”

I turn my gaze away, too, relieving her of my probing stare. “Anyone else you want me to kill?”

She sniffs. “I can think of a few.”

“How about we trade, then. I’ll kill whoever you want me to if you can tell me if you’ve seen someone for me.”

I feel her stare once more, so I meet it.

“Show me her,” she whispers. Pulling out my phone, I bring up Addie’s author photo. My chest clenches painfully, and I turn the screen towards the Russian girl.

“Her name is—”

“Addie,” she murmurs, and my heart stops.

“You know her?”

“She was in the house with me. Still there, last time I checked.”

“Where?” I snap, incapable of minding my tone.

“I don’t know,” she answers, her voice hardening. “Are we in Oregon?”

“Yes. We’re in Jacksonville.”

“Then she is close. I was blindfolded on the way to and from the house, so I’ve no idea where it is, but I counted the minutes, and we were in the car no more than an hour. All I can tell you is that the owner’s name is Francesca, she runs the place with her brother, and it’s somewhere in the middle of the woods.”

I take a deep breath, briefly meeting Michael’s wide stare. Hearing that Addie could only be an hour away has my heart racing. Out the window goes my patience and discipline. My fingers are itching to search nearby towns and go house-to-house, kicking in their doors until I fucking find her.

Part of the reason I came here tonight was in the hope that someone would have seen her. But truth be told, I didn’t think I’d get this lucky.

“What’s your name?” I ask, voice strained.

“Jillian.”

“Can you tell me… fuck, is she—”

“She’s alive,” Jillian cuts in, understanding my need to ask how she is but knowing the answer is obviously not good. “She’s had a hard time with one of the girls in the house—Sydney. They’re at each other’s throats, and it gets them punished a lot.”

Low tremors radiate through my limbs, gradually increasing as Jillian goes on.

“And she has a buyer already, last I heard. He’s been visiting her.”

I clench my jaw so hard, the muscle nearly bursts from the pressure.

“His name?” I ask through gritted teeth.

She’s quiet, seemingly struggling to remember. Then a mousy voice pipes up, answering the question for her.