FELICITY
The second the woman downstairs said the cartel found another witness, ice slid straight down my spine.
I stood frozen near the top of the stairs.
Barefoot.
One hand gripping the railing hard enough my knuckles hurt.
Another witness.
Oh God.
No.
Rain battered the tavern windows below while voices carried upward through the old wood and shadows.
Blaze’s voice stayed low.
Controlled.
Dangerously calm.
“Who is she?”
“The girl?” the marshal asked. “Her name’s Isabel Torres.”
Silence.
Then Trigger cursed softly.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Torres.
I knew that name.
Not personally.
But enough.
Enough to feel panic beginning to claw its way up my throat.
The cartel lieutenant I was supposed to testify against had cousins with that last name.
Violent men.
The kind who smiled while hurting people.
The kind who buried entire families.
“She saw something she wasn’t supposed to,” the marshal continued downstairs. “Same as Felicity.”
My stomach twisted hard.
No.
Not another girl.
