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“I put it down in the shower.”

“You took it into the shower.”

I looked at the phone. It lay on the counter, face-up, black and silent.

I had turned off every notification. I had told myself it was to keep him safe: no signals, no location, no thread to pull. But that was not the reason. The reason was that I could not bear to see his name. I had sent one message. He had sent me two.

Fuck you, Maksim.

I hate you for making me feel this stupid.

I had read them one hundred and eleven times. I did not need the screen anymore. I could see them on the inside of my eyelids.

“You did it to protect him,” said Sabine, more gently.

“Yes.”

“You did it because you love him.”

“Yes.”

“And it worked. He hates you. He is furious. He will not go near you. If anyone in Roake’s employ is watching, they will see a man who was dumped by his boyfriend. Whom he is not going to help.” She pressed her hands to her face. “It was a beautiful plan. It was a tragic plan. It broke both your hearts, and it does not make the slightest difference, because Roake doesn’t care whether he hates you. He cares about what he can reach. “

The phone buzzed.

We both froze.

It buzzed a second time, skittering across the counter. On the screen was a name: Marcus (Sable).

I picked it up.

“Boss,” said Marcus. His voice was low and fast and very tight. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Tell me.”

“Ricky and Dale have been on the Pendleton place since Sunday. Nothing. Then tonight, about midnight, the kid comes out. Alone. Gets on a motorcycle in the dark, without lights, and rolls it down the drive.”

My heart, which does not beat, went cold in my chest.

“They followed him,” said Marcus. “He goes into the industrial district. Warehouses. Some place called the Pit. Ricky says it’s a fight club. The kid goes inside. Forty minutes later, Ricky sees a van pull up round the back. Black. No plates. Four men. And they go in the service door.”

“When?”

“An hour ago. They haven’t come out. Boss, the kid’s motorcycle is still in the lot, but nobody’s seen him. Dale went in after him. He’s been in twenty minutes.” A pause. “Dale isn’t answering his phone.”

I was already at the door.

I do not remember the sound Sabine made. I do not remember crossing the room, or putting on my coat. I remember only that the phone was still in my hand, and that I turned it on, at last, at last, and opened the thread. I typed with fingers that were not steady.

Lex.

Lex, where are you?

Please.

Please answer.

Delivered. Not read.