THE MOMENT THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED HIS EIGHT-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER “AN EMBARRASSMENT TO THIS FAMILY,” I PLACED A HANDWRITTEN PLACE CARD BESIDE HIS STEAK AT THEIR ENGAGEMENT DINNER—BECAUSE THE LITTLE GIRL HAD BEEN WAITING UPSTAIRS IN HER BEST DRESS FOR TWO HOURS.

“Chloe gave them the bracelet,” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “She wasn't kidnapped.”

Dante didn’t speak. He pushed the SUV to eighty miles an hour, heading straight for the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

Isabella groaned in the passenger seat. “Vance said he had an inside source. Someone who gave him the security codes to your private study to plant the Swiss letter.”

I felt sick.

I was the only one with access to the study besides Dante and Vance. But I hadn’t given anyone the codes.

I had written them down in a notebook in my apartment.

Chloe had found them.

“Why would my sister do this?” I cried, tears spilling over my cheeks. “We had everything we needed! She was finishing college!”

“Because Vance offered her something I couldn't,” Dante said, his eyes scanning the dark road ahead. “Safety. He probably convinced her I was going to get you killed.”

We approached the rusted iron gates of the shipyard. Dante killed the headlights.

“Sarah,” Dante said, turning to me. “I need you to stay here with Mia and Isabella. Lock the doors. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, drive to the precinct and ask for Captain Miller. Only Miller.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said fiercely.

“No. You’re not a killer, Sarah. And tonight, I have to be.”

Dante stepped out into the rain, disappearing into the maze of shipping containers.

I sat in the dark car. Mia held my hand, trembling.

Ten minutes passed in agonizing silence.

Then, my burner phone buzzed. It was a text message from an unknown number.

If you want Dante to live, bring the girl to Warehouse 4.

I stared at the screen.

“Sarah?” Isabella coughed, her face pale. “What is it?”

“They have him,” I whispered.

I looked at Mia. The sweet, innocent eight-year-old girl who had practiced smiling just so she wouldn't be rejected. I couldn't hand her over to the Morettis.

But I couldn't let Dante die.

I looked around the SUV. Beneath Dante’s seat, I saw the handle of a spare weapon. A heavy metal tire iron.

I grabbed it.

“Isabella. Lock the doors behind me. Do not open them for anyone.”

I stepped out into the freezing rain, gripping the cold metal, and walked toward Warehouse 4.

The massive metal door was slightly ajar, spilling yellow light onto the wet pavement. I slipped inside.

The warehouse was enormous, filled with wooden crates.

In the center of the room, kneeling on the concrete floor with his hands zip-tied behind his back, was Dante Rinaldi.

Standing behind him was Vance, holding a pistol to the back of Dante’s head.

And standing next to Vance, looking down at the ground, was my sister, Chloe.

“Chloe!” I screamed.

She looked up, her eyes wide with guilt. “Sarah, I’m sorry. They said they would give us enough money to leave the country. They said we’d finally be safe.”

“By selling an eight-year-old girl to monsters?” I yelled, tears streaming down my face.

Vance laughed. “She’s a pragmatist, Sarah. Something you never learned to be.”

Vance raised his pistol. “Where is the kid?”

“She’s gone,” I lied, stepping forward. “The police are already on their way.”

Vance’s smile vanished. “Check outside!” he yelled to two guards near the entrance.

The guards ran out.

Vance turned back to me, furious. “You stupid maid. You just killed the only man who cared about you.”

He cocked the hammer of his gun, aiming at Dante’s head.

But before Vance could pull the trigger, Chloe suddenly lunged forward.

She didn’t grab Vance.

She grabbed the heavy industrial power switch on the wall and yanked it downward.