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I pause, my heart racing. “Kane, why did you tell me this?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. I can hear the sounds of the evening outside, crickets chirping, cars and wind in the distance but more than anything, Kane’s breathing.

My mind takes me back to one of my first days in his team. It was after Rowan’s assignment and I was at my new desk, hungover and broken. Kane had gripped my shoulder and handed me a cup of coffee without a word.

He always had my back—until he didn’t.

“Because you saved my life,” he says quietly. “Rowan was going to kill me, and you spared me even when you shouldn’t have.”

It’s like my chest is caving in, the sorrow of losing my best friend and mentor coming back in a wave to drown me again and again.

“Kane…”

“You’ve made your decisions, and I’ve made mine. I hope one day we can sit down and talk about it.”

I release a shaky breath, moisture stinging my eyes. “I have to go,” I whisper. “Send me what you have.”

“I will,” he says.

It takes a few deep breaths before I’m able to collect myself. I can’t focus on Kane. Right now, The Choosing is taking place and Rowan is stuck in there with Jonathan.

I need to get to him. I need to get to the Serpentine. I grab my keys and bolt out of the townhouse.

I race through the traffic-clogged streets of Senna, weaving through cars and buses, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly they ache.

My mind is moving just as quickly, sifting through anything Rowan has told me about his father. Once, when I was still undercover, he’d let it slip that Jonathan would use a bullwhip on him and his brothers when they failed a task. I remember the flatness in his voice when he said it, like it didn’t bother him, but there was an edge to it too, uneasy, maybe even afraid.

I glance at my phone, trying Rowan’s number for the tenth time. Straight to voicemail. The Choosing must have already started, which means Rowan is with Jonathan. Panic twists in my chest. Jonathan won’t stop at Zaina. If he’s behind Haze, if he’s left the trail of bodies behind him to secure his position, then Rowan is in danger too and I don’t doubt he’ll pull some kind of stunt tonight.

The worst thought sprouts in my mind and I have to close my eyes for a second to ward it off.

You can’t let him die.

I press harder on the gas pedal, weaving through the sluggish traffic. Horns blare, headlights flash, but I don’t care. Every second feels like a lifetime.

Less than ten minutes later, the Serpentine rises in the distance, its sleek, glassy exterior glittering in the city’s dim light. It is a spiralling chrome building. Its writhing body stretches out into the sky, constructed to give the illusion of a serpent reaching for the heavens as if God Himself wanted to be closest to The Snake.

I park my car in a random spot along the street, my heart racing as I tuck my badge into my jacket and step out into the icy November night.

The front entrance of The Serpentine is like any office building in Queen’s Peak, men dressed in sleek suits, earpieces taped to their necks and hints of tattoos the only indication that it is not a simple bank or investment firm but something more dangerous.

Three men stand outside, and I watch them stiffen as I approach, their eyes narrowing.

“Stop,” one of them says before I make it up the short staircase that leads to the doors. I scan his body quickly, looking for a weapon, but there is no obvious bulge. I know he’s armed though, so I obey his command, pausing halfway up the stairs as he comes to stand in front of me, a step higher so he stares down.

“This building is shut to the public after five.”

It’s already nine in the evening, but around us, Senna buzzes with weekend crowds. I shoot the man a smile, pulling out my badge and holding it up for him to see. This is the last thing I should be using the badge for, but I have long moved past the line between right and wrong.

“Detective Alexander Kimura, Organised Crime Unit,” I say, keeping my voice level. “I need to speak with Rowan Vasilyev immediately.”

His gaze flicks to the badge and back to me. He doesn’t move from blocking my way. “He’s not here,” he says, sounding bored. “Leave.”

“Okay,” I say easily, trying to look calm. I look past him at the other guards. “Well, can I speak to your Enforcer instead? I have information he’d be interested in hearing.”

“What for?” The guard asks, crossing his arms.

“There’s an active investigation going on involving him and if I don’t speak to him now, you’ll have a convoy of police cars swarming this building in less than twenty minutes.”