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Lazlo runs his hand over his bald head, cocking a brow. “You want the girl’s location first?”
I narrow my eyes and start to move closer, glowering. But just that fast, he puts his hands up.
“I did not mean to intrude.”
“Keep talking, Lazlo. If I don’t hear the location from your lips soon, I’m going to start thinking that you decided not to turn your back on Constantine.”
Lazlo squints, looking a little puzzled. “How do you know who the other bidder was?”
My brows go up just a hair. I slide a curious look at Eros. He gives his head a tiny shake, meaning that he doesn’t know what Lazlo is talking about.
“Constantine offered to pay you for the address?”
“Yes…” Lazlo frowns, looking between me and Eros. “He offered me two million euros. It just so happened that you have what I need most.” He smiles, his eyes hardened. “Although I don’t understand why you didn’t just beat the coordinates out of your brother. If Ares was my blood, I would hang him upside down from a tree and drain his blood until he confessed where he had hidden the girl. Perhaps that is just the Hungarian way though…”
I blink several times, unsure what he said to me just now. “I think I misheard you. Who has the girl?”
Lazlo’s eyes narrow on me. “Your brother Ares. Is this new information to you?”
Without realizing it, I violently lurch toward the wall, punching the dull sandstone with enough force to cause a crack in the wall.
Lazlo jumps back a foot, licking his lips nervously and throwing his hands up like a shield. “I did not know. I assure you; I would have made a bigger commotion yesterday.”
My furious gaze turns to Eros. His cheeks color slightly but he is already shaking his head, a denial on his lips.
“I don’t know a thing about it, Hades. I swear. This is the first I’m hearing of it.”
My eyes burn into him. “I’ll deal with you later,” I grate out. “For now, I want to know where the girl is stashed.”
Lazlo nods eagerly. “Here, let me get the coordinates for you now.” Reaching in a pocket sewn into his dress, he pulls out his phone and scrolls for a moment.
Then he types something in and presses a button, prompting it to make a soft chime. Almost instantly, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Without taking my eyes off of Lazlo, I take my phone out.
“It’s all there,” he says, inclining his head.
I check the address, my brows lifting with surprise when I realize it is on Menorca, an island close to Ibiza. My heart thuds as I quickly forward his text to my private investigator in France. As my local agent in Europe, he can have teams scrambled and heading to her location in under an hour.
My heart is beating so damn fast in my chest that for a moment, I am unsteady on my feet. Eros moves in smoothly, taking over. He pulls out his phone, gets Mohamad’s phone number, and then sends him the address of the warehouse. I lean against the dirty sandstone wall and watch their interaction, but I hear little of it. If money is exchanged, I miss it somehow. My mind is whirling, exploring the possibilities.
Could my brother really be behind Persephone’s kidnapping? I’m dumbfounded. He watched me as I fell apart for months and months, and yet… he remained silent.
Part of me says it is not possible. But a larger part of me says that of course it is… who else would stage a kidnapping and not bother to ask for a hefty ransom?
Faintly, I hear Eros questioning Lazlo. “Does Constantine know that you are selling to Hades?”
I blink. My hand aches, although I do not think it is broken. I cup it with my undamaged fingers and stare off into the distance.
The only thing that brings me back into sharp focus is the sound of the first gunshot. From somewhere up above, a sleek bullet glides right through the back of Lazlo’s skull.
For a moment, I’m confused. Lazlo stopped speaking mid-sentence and I look at him, my mind working to catch up with the sound. A small stain appears on the front of his dress just below the right breastbone.
Time seems to thin, stretching out for a few moments. Lazlo starts to look up… and then suddenly sags to the ground, his life cut suddenly, irredeemably short. It’s only then that Eros snaps into action.
“Gun!”
He pulls me against the wall. I backpedal into the shadows of the doorway, drawing my weapon. I cringe as my hand throbs sharply, but my body does what I want it to. I swing the weapon up, covering the opening over our heads.
Eros draws his weapon, too, backing up until both of us are resting against the door. But there is no sign of life. No movement from above whatsoever.
