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"Evelyn!" Matteo roars, the bedroom door creaking under his assault. "Don't do this! You have no idea what you're walking into!"
I hesitate for just a second, my hand on the doorknob.
"I'm sorry," I whisper again, though I know he can't hear me. "But I have to save them."
I step into the hallway and pull the door shut behind me.
I dash down the hallway, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. The elevator takes an eternity to arrive andI keep glancing back at Noah's door, expecting Matteo to burst through at any second. When the doors finally slide open I nearly collapse with relief.
Inside the elevator I press the lobby button repeatedly, willing it to move faster. My hands are shaking. I have no phone, no money, not even a jacket. But I know where I need to go.
The doorman gives me a curious look as I hurry across the marble lobby. I force a smile and wave as if everything is normal, as if I'm not escaping captivity.
Outside, the cold air hits me like a slap. I scan the street and spot a yellow taxi approaching. I wave frantically and it pulls over.
"Where to, miss?" The driver asks as I slide into the backseat.
"East 65th Street," I say, giving him Ivan's address without hesitation. I've been there countless times for dinner parties and contract discussions. The grand townhouse where I signed away my freedom without realizing it.
The driver looks at me expectantly in the rearview mirror.
"I... I don't have any money with me," I admit. "But someone at the destination will pay. Double the fare, even. It's an emergency."
Something in my expression must convince him because he nods and pulls away from the curb.
"Thank you," I say, sinking back against the seat.
As we weave through Manhattan traffic I stare out the window, trying to organize my thoughts. Ivan wants me. He has Jessica and Michael. It's a simple equation with only one solution.
Me for them.
The taxi turns onto Ivan's street, lined with elegant townhouses. I recognize his immediately – the imposing stone facade with black iron gates. My stomach knots as we pull up to the curb.
"This is it," I tell the driver. "Just wait here. Someone will come out to pay you."
I step out of the taxi and approach the gate, pressing the intercom button with a shaky finger. A camera above the gate swivels toward me.
"It's Evelyn Anderson," I say clearly. "I'm here to see Ivan."
There's a long pause before the intercom crackles to life.
"Miss Anderson." The voice belongs to Dmitri, Ivan's head of security. "What a pleasant surprise."
The gate buzzes and swings open.
I pull up to Damiano's house, the engine of the bike still rumbling beneath me. My head's a mess of strategies and threats—ways to find Jessica, ways to hurt Ivan, ways to keep Evelyn safe. The thought of her alone in my apartment with only Matteo watching her makes my stomach twist, but I push it down. Focus on the task. That's what I've always done.
The guard at the gate nods as I pass through. He knows better than to stop me.
I park the bike and stride toward the main entrance, my boots crunching on the gravel driveway. The mansion looms ahead, all old money and power. The Ferettis have been in control for generations, and it shows in every brick.
When I push open the door I'm surprised to find Lucrezia standing in the foyer. She's wearing paint-splattered jeans and a loose shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. She doesn'tlook like the mafia princess she is—more like the bohemian artist she wants to be.
"Noah," she says, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I didn't expect to see you back so soon."
"Need to talk to your brother," I say, already moving past her toward Damiano's office.
She steps in front of me, blocking my path. "He's on a call with the Colombians. Something about that shipment in Queens."