I follow him out.
35
BEA
I wake up in a chair.
That’s the first piece of information my body returns to me. Not where, not when, not what—justchair.The second piece ishands behind my back.The third isrope.By the fourth, I’ve figured out the rope’s probably been biting at my wrists for a while now.
It hurts like hell, but that’s not even the worst of it.
There’s a pain pulsing at the back of my skull that I can hardly comprehend. I keep my eyes clamped shut, trying to will it away.
Slowly, it fades into the background until I have enough clarity to listen to my surroundings.
Silence. Then, the small, soft sound of liquid moving in glass somewhere to my left. The subtle swish of a thumb moving over a phone screen.
I open my eyes.
The room isn’t what I expected. Big. Expensive. There’s a tall window with the curtain pulled, a fireplace that doesn’t look like it gets used, an armchair, a side table with a glass.
A little further back, by the door, a guard, scrolling on his phone.
In the armchair: Victor Moreno Jr. Legs crossed. Glass of whiskey in hand. Looking at me like a painting he’s pleased with.
“Miss Mendez. Finally awake.”
I don’t say anything.
He smiles at me, that smile from the driveway, and takes a sip of his whiskey, rolling it in his mouth before he swallows.
“We met at the gala. Briefly. I doubt you remember.” He sets the glass down. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. Victor Moreno. Head of the Moreno family. And, as of tonight, the most powerful man in this city.”
“Go to hell.”
“There it is.” He smiles wider. “Raffaele always did like them feisty.”
“Where is he?”
“Where is who, Miss Mendez?”
“Where isRaffaele?”
He sets the glass down on the side table and takes a moment to look at me with a small, manufactured sadness.
“Raffaele’s dead, I’m afraid.”
My heart drops through the floor.
“Tragic situation. He and Nico got into it at a warehouse on the west side. Two old rivals. The streets’ll be talking about it for weeks.” He picks the glass up again. “Both of them burned to ashes by sunrise.”
I can’t breathe.
“How-how did he die?” I finally manage to choke out. There’s a darkness rotting inside of me, but I can’t look away.
“Miss Mendez.”
“How did he die?”
