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“Where is Enrico Morelli?” he growls at last.
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you do. It’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’ve come to rectify your mistake in the hopes that we might let you live if you finish the job now.”
I neither confirm nor deny anything.
Impatience flickers in Derek’s eyes. “Where is he?”
I just continue watching him in silence.
“Tell you what,” he begins. “If you give me Enrico Morelli’s location, I will put in a good word with the Master. I’ll even try to convince him to skip the hundred days of torture before your execution.”
“That’s a generous offer.”
“It is.”
“But I still can’t take you up on it. Because I don’t know where he is.”
“Liar.”
Voices come from down the street behind my back.
Relief washes through me.At last.
“FIRE!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Help! There’s a fire!”
Cries of alarm erupt from the people down the street. A second later, pounding footsteps sound as they race towards me.
A snarl rips from Derek’s throat as he starts backing away down the alley. “There will be a reckoning for this, Anna. For your betrayal and for the six years you spent covering it up.”
I don’t bother replying. Instead, I shove Sebastian forward and sprint out of the alley one second before a mass of people come skidding into it with the intention of helping put out my fake fire.
While hiding my gun, I race through the streets and back to my car before Derek and Sebastian can pick up my trail.
My heart pounds in my chest the entire way back to Blackwater.
It’s only when I have locked my apartment door behind me again that I’m able to force my thundering pulse to slow down a fraction. If I stay at Blackwater, I should be fine. Now that they have found me, they will assume that I will get the hell out of this city and this state as fast as possible. They would never even consider that I would risk remaining here now that they know where I am.
So I will stay at Blackwater. And everything will be fine.
I repeat those two sentences to myself over and over again while I stand there in the dark, leaning my forehead against the now locked door.
Once I at least half believe it, I drag in a deep breath and turn around. I flip the light switch by the door. Warm light floods my apartment.
I suck in a sharp breath and yank out my gun as I notice a small package on my kitchen table. Thinking that it might be a bomb, I slowly edge forward. But I know that I’m being too paranoid, that I’m too tense after the run-in with the Hands of Peace, because the package is far too small to be a bomb.
Placing my gun on the table, I lean forward slightly and study the tiny box. It’s dark blue, no bigger than my palm, and has a white ribbon tied around it.
Very carefully, I pull open the ribbon and lift the lid.
There is a note on top.
I saw you looking at it, and I agree. It really would look great on you. Rico.
A strained laugh full of both exasperation and relief rips from my chest. Of course this is Rico’s doing. Who else would break into my apartment like this and leave a strange box on my table?
Dragging a hand through my hair, I blow out a long breath before reaching for the note so that I can move it aside and see what’s in the box and find out what kind of wicked game Rico is playing now. Given our conversation on the phone the other day, it’s probably a pair of miniature handcuffs.
