Page 61 of Barinov

“But not this time,” he says turning back to me, his evil gaze sharpened to a point. “This time her king will fall in our pit. This time we get to watch him bleed.”

I raise a brow.

“That’s poetry, Zeke.”

I stay silent.

“Everything’s in place,” he says. “Almost, anyway.”

“What’s missing?” I ask, lifting my mug to my lips.

“I need you to get something for me. I need the ring.”

“The ring?” I echo.

He nods. “Alejandro’s.”

“What?!” I choke on my coffee, my eyes flicking up to meet his. “You’re letting me leave?” I ask, carefully setting my mug down before I drop the damn thing and it shatters everywhere.

“You’ll be back,” he says, pulling out his phone. He types something into it, angling it away from me so I can’t see.

Typical.

He taps the side of my collar with two fingers. There’s a faint click as the lock disengages. He removes it, his rough fingers brushing slowly over my bare skin.

I rub my neck, but the skin there burns like it’s still strapped tight.

His eyes follow the movement, amusement flickering in them. “Think of it as another field trip.”

“How long will I be gone?”

Luca smiles, slow and sickly sweet. He pulls out a syringe from his pocket. Before I can react, he jabs it deep into my neck.

“Shit,” I hiss, my hand flying up to the spot. “What the—”

“You’ve got seventy-two hours,” he cuts me off, completely unbothered. “You’ll need the antidote by then.”

“Fuck.” I stagger back a step. “There’s one problem with your plan,” I rasp, rubbing my neck until the sting eases.

He lazily strides to the edge of the counter. “And what would that be?”

“He’ll never talk to me. Hell, he’d shoot me first.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says, leaning down to throw the needle into the trash.

“How do you figure?”

“Because his bitch of a daughter is still in love with you.”

My heart races. There’s no way. After everything that happened Mar would still… would she? No. Not possible. Especially now. Not after all I’ve done.

Damn it. Does he have the heat set to ninety degrees or something? It’s fucking stifling. A fuzzy numbness creeps into my hands. I shake them, but the feeling won’t go away.

No.

Not again.

Breathe.