I stare at her, at the gun still clutched in her hand, and see something I never expected from Enzo’s perfect wife; a ruthlessness that matches our own.
“You can’t—”
“The hell I can’t,” she spits. “I’ve already convinced Enzo, and I shouldn’t have to convince you too.”
“We’re coming with you,” Enzo confirms. “I’m not letting my wife’s best friend die.”
“Fine,” is all I say, even though the clock in my head keeps ticking louder with every heartbeat.
My Little Thief has been gone too many hours. Especially considering she’s in the hands of a man whose family I destroyed. Salvador Greco is about to learn a painful lesson; the monster who burned his family alive has only grown more dangerous since then.
Chapter 41
Raven
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I’ve been listening to that water for how long? Hours? Days? Time’s gone all silly putty in this concrete box. Stretchy and bendy and completely fucking useless.
The single bulb hanging overhead never changes, casting the same harsh shadows across the floor, across Adam’s body, across the growing puddle of what used to be inside him. I swallow hard, wincing at the razor blades in my throat.
If I fall asleep, I might wake up dead. Or worse, wake up with company. So I keep talking, even though my voice has shredded itself into something barely human.
“One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand,” I count between drips, then frown at the ceiling.“You’re inconsistent. That’s not good for business. The dripping water market is very competitive these days.”
I tilt my head, listening more carefully.
“Wait a second.” My voice breaks on the last word, turning into a painful croak. “That’s not random. That’s… that’s Morse code.”
I squint at the ceiling, tracking each drip with desperate concentration.
“Dot-dot-dash-dot… that’s… R? Are you spelling my name, you pretentious leak?” I laugh, the sound scraping against my raw throat like sandpaper. “Fucking ghost water thinking it’s clever.”
I shake my head, arguing with myself. “It’s not Morse code, you idiot. It’s a fucking leak. Not everything is a sign.” I also don’t know any damn Morse code at all, but that’s hardly the point right now.
The handcuffs rattle against the metal table as I shift, sending fresh waves of pain through my already raw wrist. The metal has rubbed my skin so raw I can feel warm wetness. I keep telling myself it’s just sweat.
“Except… what if it is? What if…” I tilt my head again, counting the drips with renewed interest. “Fuck. You. That’s what you’re spelling, isn’t it? Very mature, ceiling. Very fucking mature.”
My gaze drifts to Adam, still sprawled on the floor. His eyes remain open, fixed in eternal surprise, staring at me.
“Rude,” I mutter to him. “It’s impolite to stare, you know.”
I squint, making a game of it.
“I bet I can win a staring contest with you now. Couldn’t before, but the circumstances have shifted in my favor.”
Thirty seconds pass. A minute.
“Ha, you blinked,” I call out, then frown. “No, you didn’t. You’d blink if you were still alive. You’re definitely cheating.”
Another minute passes while I stare into his vacant eyes until the reality of what I’m doing crashes over me like ice water. I’m having a staring contest with a corpse. Fucking hell.
“You’re not going to haunt me, right?” I whisper, voice cracking. “If you’re going to haunt anyone, haunt your psycho brother. Not me. I wasn’t the one who shot you.”
My stomach growls loudly, the sound startlingly normal in this nightmare.
“Shut up,” I tell it. “You don’t get to complain. I didn’t kidnap us.”
