Basement. Warehouse basement.
They push me into a chair. Metal, cold through my shirt. Someone cuts the zip ties on my wrists only to replace them with rope that binds my arms to the chair back, then my ankles to the chair legs.
When they’re done, they rip off the hood.
Light blinds me. Not bright, just sudden after the darkness. I blink until my eyes adjust.
The room is exactly what I expected. Concrete walls. Single hanging bulb. No windows. A metal door in the corner that probably leads to the stairs I came down.
Three men stand in front of me. All wearing dark clothes. All built like they know how to hurt people. The one in the middle is older, maybe fifty, with gray hair and eyes like frozen water. He’s the one who speaks first.
“Aurelia Vance.”
Not a question. A statement.
I don’t answer.
He pulls over another chair and sits facing me. Close enough that I can see the scar running through his left eyebrow. Close enough to smell tobacco on his breath.
“You know who we are.”
I still don’t answer.
“Petrov,” he says. “You remember that name? You should. Six years ago you watched Cassian Rourke put a bullet in my nephew’s head.”
My stomach drops.
“Dmitri Petrov,” the man continues. “Twenty-six years old. Heir to our family. Executed on a public street like a dog.”
“He pulled a weapon first,” I say before I can stop myself.
The man’s smile is cold. “So you do remember.”
I close my mouth. Shouldn’t have spoken. Shouldn’t have confirmed anything.
“My name is Viktor,” he says. “Dmitri was my brother’s son. His only child. And Cassian Rourke murdered him.”
“It was self-defense.”
“Was it? Or was it a message? A show of power to remind everyone that the Irish run this city?”
I don’t answer.
Viktor leans back in his chair. “We’ve been watching Rourke for six years. Waiting for the right moment. The right leverage. Then we discovered he has sons. Twin boys. Five years old.”
Ice floods my veins.
“And a woman,” Viktor continues. “You. The mother of his children. The witness to Dmitri’s death.” He tilts his head. “You’re very valuable, Aurelia. More than you know.”
“What do you want?”
“Information.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Yes, you do. You were there that night. You saw everything.”
“I saw Cassian kill Dmitri. That’s it.”
