Within seconds, my vision starts to blur.
The edges of the room soften, the sounds of the men talking growing distant and muffled.
I try to focus on Matei's face, try to memorize it, try to hold onto something, but everything is slipping.
"Sleep well, Zaria Quinn," he says. "And don't worry. The Killaneys are brutal, but efficient. They'll make your death quick."
Then, darkness swallows me whole.
5
CALLUM
Boston never truly sleeps.
Not even at three in the morning, when the sky is black and heavy over the estate, and the only sounds are the footsteps of my patrolling men and security cameras switching angles every thirty seconds.
I don’t even remember falling asleep, but I did, and now my phone is waking me up.
I reach for it automatically, muscle memory from years of living like this. Always ready. Always alert.
"What?" My voice comes out rough, scraped raw from exhaustion.
"Sir, sorry to wake you, but there's someone here. Says they have a package from Matei Ionescu. Said you'd want to be woken up for it."
The fog clears instantly as I sit up. "Let them through. I’m on my way."
I throw on the pants I'd left on the floor and pull a shirt over my head as I move through the bedroom. My Glock sits on the nightstand where it always does, and I grab it out of habit, checking the chamber as I head down the stairs.
I'm halfway down the stairs when I realize I don't have any shoes on.
Fuck it.
Whatever’s waiting is hopefully connected to the vow I made over my father’s body in Germany.
Matei said he’d find whoever did it. If he’s playing games, he’ll regret it.
The house is dark except for the outdoor security lights bleeding through the windows as cars pull up and my men move to surround it.
I push through the front door and the night air hits me, cool and sharp. An SUV sits in my driveway, engine running, and exhaust curling into the darkness. My men surround it and wait for my orders.
One of the rear doors opens before I reach them. A man steps out, hands raised slightly to show they’re empty.
“Mr. Killaney,” he says. His accent is Romanian. Not thick, but present. “I come with something for you.”
My jaw tightens. “Is this Matei delivering what I asked?”
The man nods, moving toward the back of the vehicle. "He said you'll be happy."
Happy. We’ll see about that.
I step closer.
He pops the trunk and I see it immediately. A tarp covering something roughly the size and shape of a person. It shifts slightly, some movement underneath.
My chest goes tighter, but I keep my face blank.
"They alive?"
