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They looked at us as though we were cargo.

The man in the suit kneeled in front of me, his face getting uncomfortably close, too close, and I flinched before I settled my gaze on the rust on the wall again.

I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t want to hear them. I didn’t want to smell them. I hated them all, but most of all, I hated Tyran Callahan.

I stared at the rust on the wall again and tried to disappear.

But there was nowhere to go. This was my hell.

ONE

SIENNA

Six Months Later

“YOU DID WHAT?”

My father’s voice bounced off the walls of his office.

I jumped.

It was the first time I’d ever seen my father so furious, but also… surprised and terrified. The emotions twisted together until they became something I barely recognized in the man who had been there for my mom, my sisters, and me from the moment he’d met us.

Somewhere in the room, the clock ticked steadily while my confession hung in the air like a noose, ready to hang someone.

To clarify, Kristoff Baldwin was my stepdad, but for all intents and purposes, I considered him my father. He was a great man, wonderful to my mom, and, most importantly, very good to my siblings and me.

Rain tapped softly against the tall windows, blurring the D.C. skyline beyond the glass. I had come to his office rather than talk to him at home because I didn’t want my mom to get wind of this. She would worry herself to death, and that was the last thing I wanted. My biological father had caused enough heartache, stress, and fear for her when I was little. I didn’t want to put her through something like that again.

Kristoff sat behind his executive desk, staring at me as if I had confessed to murdering someone.

Of course, I hadn’t killed anyone. However, I had managed to put a man who had built an empire on blood behind bars.

Tyran Callahan.

The Irish mobster who made my heart race and my stomach flutter with wild butterflies.

The Irish mobster who I had blamed and detested when I was kidnapped, believing he was at fault.

The Irish mobster who I had set up to get caught by the FBI and locked away.

“I must have misunderstood,” Kristoff demanded.

My mouth went dry. “I set up Tyran Callahan so he’d get locked up. I thought I was doing the right thing, but…”

I trailed off because I didn’t really want to bring up the traumatic experience of getting kidnapped, tortured, and almost raped. I blamed Tyran Callahan, the handsome playboy, who dared me to hack into a criminal’s bank account. My hatred slowly grew during those dark days, and the need to get back at Tyran drove me on.

Kristoff saved me by showing up at the auction where I was supposed to be sold off to the highest bidder and I swore right then and there that I would teach Tyran a lesson he would never forget.

I succeeded. Unfortunately, I learned too late that his little dare had nothing to do with the reason I’d been kidnapped.

Oh, hindsight was such a bitch.

“For the love of God, please explain to me why.” Kristoff’s jaw flexed. “How do you even know Tyran Callahan? And where in the hell did you meet him?”

“I—”

Crap, what do I even say?