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“Why can’t you just let me live my life?”

He unsheathes the knife with atsknoise. Meatball whines. The blade is so thick, I can see my reflection in it, register the terror in my eyes.

“I’ll give you two minutes. Say goodbye to the kitty.”

There’s no way I’m leaving Meatball behind… and I can’t go with Mason. I can’t go back to that life. But am I willing to risk getting stabbed?

“You’re not going to hurt me,” I say.

“Things are different now. I can’t afford to be soft. I told my fellas I was bringing our master jeweler home.”

“Fine. But I’ll need more than two minutes.”

“Tick-tock.”

He follows me into the bedroom. I take my suitcase from under the bed, nerves causing my hands to shake.

“Drop that knife,” somebody growls from behind us, “or I’ll drop you.”

It takes a moment for me to register who it is. Am I dreaming? It sounds like Mr. Russo.

I turn. Dom Russo stands in the hallway, a gun aimed at Mason. Mason attempts to make his laugh sound convincing, but I know him. He’s crapping his pants.

Dom looks different than he did in the interview. A cold exterior concealing a layer of burning rage. He looks ready to kill. “Last chance.”

Mason drops the knife, raising his hands. “Whatever you say, big man.”

Dom springs forward and slams the barrel of the gun across Mason’s mouth. He grunts and flies across the room, crashing into the wall. Dom roars and kicks him twice in the stomach, his chest heaving as he glares down at the biker.

“You’re lucky you caught me in my thirties,” Dom snarls. “Or your brains would be splattered all over this wall, you lowlife.” One hand on his pistol, he reaches into his pocket and takes out his cell.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Calling the cops.”

“You can’t?—”

Footsteps come down the hallway.

“Boss?” one of them calls.

Dom gestures at me to hide behind the bed, then presses himself against the door, the gun still aimed at Mason. But Mason isn’t in any state to fight. He cradles his stomach, his breath wheezing.

A Vulture I don’t recognize appears in the doorway. I still haven’t moved, I realize too late. It’s like I’m rooted to the spot. Seeing Mason like this is surreal. Any second, it could all go wrong. Mason will hurt Dom. Mason will make him pay.

“Where’s Mason?” the Vulture demands.

Dom springs into action, punching the man in the nose with the barrel of the gun. He wrestles him into the hallway, out of sight. There’s a crash and a bang, and a photo of me and Mom falls from the wall, the frame shattering. Dom reappears with blood flecking his face.

“Now, everyone’s going to stay calm while I call the cops.”

“You can’t,” I say.

Mason laughs throatily. “Little princess won’t allow that.”

“Shut your mouth or I’ll put a bullet in it.” Dom looks at me. “Why not?”

Because of the past. Because of my sins, but I will not tell him that. “You just… can’t, Mr. Russo. Please.”