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R eality swims in front of me, then darts out of my grasp, like a fish in murky water.

Christ, did someone toss my brain in a blender?

I blink until the pieces fit together. I’m sitting on a chair under a haze of dingy lighting. Ratchet straps around my chest and thighs keep me stuck fast. My wrists are locked behind my neck, and my legs…

I try to stretch but get nowhere. Cuffed together at the ankles.

Fantastic.

I remember…being outside Everly’s door.

That’s right. I did it. I escaped.

But the fog continues to lift and the shit I’ve gotten myself into becomes clear. Groaning, I look around as much as my position allows. The shapes are familiar: cages, a table, medical supplies…

The basement.

This time, I’m in an enormous, barred enclosure, the door swung wide open.

Dammit, I was right there. But just as I realized I wasn’t alone, a surge of lightning zapped through me. Static in my ears. Burning in my veins.

My muscles are seized up in one big Charley horse. A stun gun. Damn thing dropped me like a rock, allowing them to drag my useless body away.

“Well,” I mumble, “I was right. I regret that decision with every fiber of my being.”

“Yes, well, I like to call that reaping the consequences of your actions. ” A smug face appears in front of me. The Timekeeper.

Fuck, I really need to find out this asshole’s name.

“Or, as our late friend Roger Oxley might say, ‘stupid should hurt.’ And unfortunately for you, I’m afraid we haven’t even gotten started.”

Late friend… I killed Roger?

Could have sworn he was alive when I left him.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not in the mood for comedy hour just yet.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine in a minute.” He waves me off like I’ve been stung by a bee. “Say, don’t they hit you with a taser in police training? I thought you’d be used to it.”

And there it is.

He’s probably been champing at the bit to spill everything he knows about me.

“You don’t exactly develop an immunity to electricity surging through your body, dumbass.”

“Good to know.”

At the snap of his fingers, I catch movement to my side. Someone stands just outside my line of vision. A long metal rod comes into view, aimed at the exposed skin of my upper arm?—

Zzzzt.

“Ahh. Fuck!” I jolt in place. A cramp in my shoulder, then burning.

A guttural sound wrenches from between my teeth. I writhe in my bonds, sputtering curses. Panting.

A cattle prod.

My teeth bare in a predator’s smile. “That tickles.”

With a cock of his head, he grins right back. “Would you believe they left this here? Comes in handy.”

“Thoughtful of them. Where is here , exactly?”

He smacks his hands together. “Well, I suppose that’s all for now.”

“Hey, douche nozzle.” I prepare myself for another zap from the cattle prod.

It doesn’t come.

Freezing in place, he looks at me over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

“Since you’re here, I’ve been meaning to ask. What the fuck did you do with my sister?”

“I’m sorry, who?” He cups a hand around his ear.

“Don’t play games with me, you miserable piece of shit. You know what I’m?—”

“Dear lord.” He grimaces, waving a hand in front of his nose. “Your aroma is offensive. What have you been crawling in?”

“Why don’t we take a walk out back, and I’ll show you?” Menace oozes through every word.

“Childish taunts.” He clicks his tongue. “Really, I expected better. But I suppose you have been through the wringer lately. And I’m sorry to break this to you, but you don’t even know the half of it.”

“Kidnapping me, my sister, and murdering countless people isn’t enough? Answer my question. Where is she?”

“Still so fixated on one girl.”

“My. Sister ,” I roar the words. “Sara. Not one girl. Sara Carlisle.”

I hear her voice in my head, “My father should have adopted you. Then you could be a Carlisle, too.” She had just come back into my life, eager to make up for our family’s sins. “I could change my name to Porter. It’s only fair.”

My sweet, justice-loving sister. I didn’t deserve her.

I’ll give you justice, Sara.

“Why her?” It’s practically a sob. “Why did you have to take her?”

A flippant shrug. “I don’t know. Why do I choose anybody? She came to my attention and had the qualities I was looking for. After our pretty little birdie Everly proved so lucrative, I thought a crooning canary with striking genetics might fetch a good penny, too. It was a disappointment when she wasn’t compatible.”

“You killed her because she wasn’t compatible ?”

“I killed her because her prolonged upkeep no longer suited my purposes. I needed to free up a spot.” He shrugs matter-of-factly. “But you’ll be happy to know, I respected the wishes on her driver’s license to donate her organs. Not a part of her went to waste.”

“You motherfucking—” I swallow the rising bile. “I’m going to disembowel you.” Seething, I let him see the truth in my eyes.

He chuckles as though my threats are no more than a swat from a kitten.

He’ll find out.

“You really would rip my head right off my shoulders if you could, wouldn’t you?”

“With my bare hands.”

“Such violence. Your buyer is going to love that.” Excitement glimmers in his eyes. “Now, I hate to dash, but I must prepare. First impressions and all that. However, I do have a memento for your entertainment while we’re waiting for him to arrive.”

I don’t react. He’ll tell me anyway.

“Oh yes, did I forget to mention? The man paying for you is on his way. In the meantime, movies!” He claps his hands. “Chop, chop.”

This guy is unhinged.

Dolph wheels something into the cage while I slump, limp and numb. Still feeling the aftershocks.

“Sit him up,” he orders. “He won’t want to miss this.”

I’m turned abruptly to face a television, my head lifted by the hair.

The thought clicks: has Everly suffered for my actions?

If she’s on that screen…

Dread curdles my insides. “Everly.” My voice is wrecked, but I need to know. “Where is she? What have you done to her?” I shouldn’t show him I care. Hell, I shouldn’t care, period . But it’s too late for that. It’s too goddamn?—

“What do you want from me?” a woman’s voice calls from the screen.

My head snaps up.

It’s not Everly.

“You’ve made a big mistake.” On the screen, my sister stands with her chin lifted and eyes blazing. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourselves into.”

Confusion swims in my head. Thumps in my chest.

Is she alive?

No.

I see now, as she stands with her feet planted firmly, telling them exactly how fucked they are. It’s the same room I spent the last two months in. She’s wearing a flowing blue dress—the one she wore when she walked out the door for the last time. One shoulder is ripped and hanging, and it looks like someone tackled her into the mud. “My brother is going to find you and make you wish you were never born.”

My heart shatters, lodging in my throat.

I’m so sorry, Sara. I was two years too late.

She curses them, calmly. Fiercely. Her voice is low and dangerous. And despite the ache in my chest, despite knowing she never made it out, seeing her like this fills me with?—

Wait.

I can hear her. I can hear her from inside the room.

“The cameras.”

How?

All those things Everly and I said to each other…the plans we made. She was sure there was no volume. Were we wrong the whole time? Was this part of his game?

“Oh…you thought there was no sound.” The asshole chuckles lightly. “Incorrect, but it only picks up louder noises. Yelling and the like. It’s an old facility, you know, and replacing the original security system was hardly worth the cost, since I can’t find it in me to care about your pointless chitchat.”

This tracks when Sara moves to the familiar wall, laying her hand against it. I know exactly who is speaking from the other side.

When she speaks, I can’t hear a thing.

A surge of emotion wells up inside me. Sticks in the back of my throat. For several minutes, all I can do is watch.

Reluctantly, I take my eyes off Sara long enough to slide a look toward my tormentor. “So, this is what you do? Lock people up and watch them suffer?”

“Goodness, no. I pay people to do that for me. This is just to keep an eye on things. I don’t get my jollies from sitting around watching your boring, everyday lives. I’m a busy man, you know; there are better things to do with my time.” Then a hideous grin pulls across his lips. “But it is quite interesting to watch a person’s behavior when they know their death is impending.”

The hourglass.

“You sick bastard.”

He chuckles. “It’s a wonder those lovely women ever put up with your limited vocabulary and crude vulgarity…not that Everly has options. You should be thanking me for allowing you to spend your last days with such a gem.”

That’s another thing I’ve been wondering about. “Tell me something.” If I can do nothing else from this chair, I’m going to get some answers. “With a place this big, isn’t it pretty fucking stupid to put two people in rooms next to each other, only separated by a thin wall, when they could be plotting against you?”

“Oh, that.” He moves in front of the screen, blocking my view of Sara as she wanders the room, skimming her fingers over the wall. “I do love how you assume that wasn’t on purpose.”

“I do love how you make no sense whatsoever.” My voice drips venom. “Wait…no, I don’t. It’s obnoxious.”

“I find myself easily bored. Obviously, this isn’t my only facility—I’m too brilliant to keep all my eggs in one basket—but since I do spend a good amount of time here, I like to keep things fresh. Your little neighbor girl might be pretty to look at, but she’s about as interesting as watching paint dry, sitting in that room, talking to herself. Most of the others haven’t been much different, once they give up and stop screaming. So, when the opportunity came up, I thought I might put a wild card in the mix and see what happened.”

A wild card.

Me.

“Well, you saw what happened.”

He gestures to my helpless, bound body. “As did you.”

“You only caught me,” I simmer, “because I came back for?—”

He’s smiling—broad and knowing.

Fuck.

Rage coils in my gut, but I keep it on a leash. For now. “You’re playing with me.”

“Yes, well, that is what I do.”

“You kidnap people to play games with them?”

“Oh, no. I choose people based on their value to my business. Everything else is more of a hobby; a personal quirk, if you will.”

He unclips the hourglass from his belt loop and holds it to the light.

My stomach drops.

But he merely admires it. “That’s why I fancy these, you see. Sure, I could have an employee simply shoot someone in the head when I’m done with them, but it’s so much more interesting to set one of these down in front of a person and watch them go.” His finger spins in the air.

I open my mouth to reply, but it’s Sara who interrupts, planted in front of the camera again, her sweet face livid. “Hey, assholes. You want me to explain how stupid you are? You took the sister of the best detective in the city. And now you’re completely fucked.”

“Ah, yes.” He waves a hand at the screen. “I almost forgot how vulgar that pretty mouth was.” He eyes me disdainfully. “I guess we see where she got that from. Lots of swearing and threatening the retribution of her brother, the detective .”

“You knew I wasn’t Nick Ford from the beginning. How?”

“It’s called the internet. Maybe you’ve heard of it?” Condescension oozes from his lips. “When one of my assets came in here blabbering about her brother, the detective, I researched all possible threats. I’ve known who you were for two years, but you were of no interest to me as long as you remained clueless about my operation. Imagine my surprise when Rudolph brought you in the hard way.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just kill me.”

“Oh, no, I was delighted, actually. I’d been looking for the perfect fit for my client. Someone well-trained—police, military, it didn’t really matter. You happened to pop in at just the right time.”

“How fortunate for me.”

“Indeed.” He glances at the hourglass. “Oh, look at the time. I’ve dawdled too long, I’m afraid, so I’ll leave you with the lovely Sara for now. How about we just fast-forward to the good part?” He picks up a remote from next to the television and presses a button.

“I’m going to kill you,” I tell him calmly.

“Yes, you mentioned that a time or two.”

“Consider that a promise.”

“Mmm.” His eyes are on the screen. “Any minute now…” He forwards the recording to an image of him walking into Sara’s room. My heart kicks up pointlessly. “Ah. Here we go.” Pressing play, he watches himself casually set an hourglass on the floor, just out of Sara’s reach.

“What is this? What does it mean?” she yells as he exits. She tries to lunge for the hourglass—to snatch it away—but no matter how she stretches, her fingers fall just short. “What kind of sick game are you playing?”

No. Fuck no. Don’t make me watch this.

“Fear not,” he calls over his shoulder. “Things are about to get interesting soon enough.”

I’m left alone in the cage with the ghost of my sister talking on screen, and a surly Scandinavian. And when I smile, I make sure he sees all my teeth. “Hello, Rudolph.”

This time, when the instrument is held to my skin, I barely flinch.

My sister sits cross-legged, as close to the hourglass as the cuff on her ankle will allow, her eyes glued to the thing like it’s a black mamba ready to strike if she does so much as blink.

I watch her like she could disappear any minute. Because I already know she will.

There’s a temptation to close my eyes—to rebel against this insidious method of torture. But Sara deserves more than that, more than being locked up in a room to face the end alone. It’s the past, and with no way to change the outcome, she should at least have a witness to her last moments, no matter how painful they might be.

That witness was always meant to be me.

Not allowing it to be torture is how I rebel.

“You’re a sad, sorry motherfucker, you know that?” The Viking’s deep voice is garbled as he chews what smells like a greasy fast-food burger. My empty stomach twists painfully, but I refuse to acknowledge him.

She doesn’t have much time.

It’s just me and Sara now. Holding a vigil, as she waits for the end.

She knows what comes next. I can see it as the minutes drain in a slow stream of sand. As her uneven breathing and restless fingers turn into drooping shoulders and a slow drizzle of tears.

Then, finally, as the level in the hourglass drops to less than half, she raises her chin, straightens her spine, and takes a deep breath. Her eyes drift closed.

Another breath, then two, and she begins to sing.

Though all but a few higher notes are too soft for the camera to pick up, I can see it in the way she throws her head back, rocking back and forth to the rhythm.

Through the wet blur in front of my eyes, I can almost picture her on an empty stage, illuminated by a single spotlight as she plays her acoustic guitar with that blue pick that matches her dress. The one I gave her all those years ago, for her birthday.

The one that made her decide there was something in me worth saving.

Her tears flow freely through closed lashes, soaking flushed cheeks and dripping from her chin. But there’s a fierce resolution in her expression. The knowledge that she fought as hard as she could, and when she saw the inevitable end, she chose to meet it on her own terms. Peacefully, with the thing she loved most.

Music.

The air burns my lungs, every breath pushing my chest against the unforgiving straps that hold me to this chair. They say life flashes before your eyes when you know you’re about to die, and I don’t know if that’s what she saw as she sang, but it’s what I see now.

The life of Sara Carlisle plays like a movie on fast-forward in my head, slowing at the part that changed the trajectory of my own.

“I won’t let you kill yourself this way, Isaac.” She storms over to the couch where I lie and yanks the whisky bottle from my loose grip. In a daze, I follow her to the kitchen, where she’s pouring the contents of several bottles into the sink. “I’ve been here a month, and you’ve done this every single night.”

“Why does it matter?” I don’t bother stopping her. Getting more is easy.

“It matters—” She spins to face me, her eyes ferocious. “Because you bought into a lie that you’re inherently bad, and now you’re on a mission to destroy yourself. And I’m sick of it.”

Sliding onto the barstool, I rest my head on the countertop. She’s wrong.

“I called Tanner.” The bottles clink as she tosses them into the trash. “He said it’s been like this for the last year, but that you won’t listen to him, either.”

“I’m fine at work. I only drink at night.”

“That’s not the point. You can’t keep going like this.”

I roll my head and look at her through a haze. “Why am I letting you stay here again?”

“Well, I thought it was because I needed a place temporarily, but now I suspect it’s because you need to hear the truth.”

“Whatever you say.”

Her eyes narrow. “You have a purpose in this world, Isaac Porter, and this isn’t it.” Grabbing my keys off the counter, she pulls on my arm. “There’s a meeting a few blocks away that starts in an hour. I’m driving.”

I’ll humor her, but I don’t plan to stop. I enjoy being numb too much.

Still, I let her take me to that meeting, and the one after that, because maybe…

Maybe I hope she’s right.

Sara’s door opens.

The Timekeeper walks into the room.

Seconds later, the same man is standing between the television and my chair, blocking my view. I didn’t even notice him enter the cage. “Oh, look at that. Perfect timing.” He picks up the remote.

My heart is a swollen, throbbing weight in my chest. “Wait,” I mumble, barely comprehending who I’m talking to. “I’m not finished.”

He aims the remote at the screen like a loaded weapon. “Oh, but I’m afraid she is.”

But his goading can’t shake me, because at that moment, Sara turns and looks straight at the camera.

As if she knew, one day, I would be watching.

That’s why, as I’m dragged away, I take one last look at her face.

I smile.

And I swear she smiles back.