I sink onto the bed, my legs shaking.
I just threatened Adrian Nero.
And somehow, impossibly, I won.
Leo arrives ten minutes later. I've barely met the man, but I like him. He's calm and stoic, and less terrifying than Adrian, whose anger feels like an inferno.
I'm under no illusions about how dangerous he likely is, and yet, I feel less anxious in his presence than Adrian's.
"Don't make me regret this, Sera."
I don't answer as I follow Leo out of the house.
The car ride is silent. Leo doesn't try to make conversation. Just drives through Manhattan with the kind of efficiency that suggests he's done this a thousand times.
We end up in Queens. A nondescript building that looks like an apartment building but probably isn't.
Leo parks and turns to me. "Stay close. Do what I tell you. Understood?"
"Yes." I nod. I place a hand on my stomach. "I'm not interested in doing anything to put myself in danger. I just want to see my brother."
"Good." He gets out, coming around to open my door. "Your brother is on the third floor. We'll take the elevator up, and you'll stay behind me."
I nod.
The building is nicer inside than out. It looks more like ahotel than a place where you'd keep prisoners. I try not to laugh as I think about how the Neros even keep their prisoners in high-end accommodations.
When we arrive at the door, Leo glares at me. "Ten minutes," he says sternly.
I step inside, unsure of what to expect.
Gabe is sitting on a couch, his hands zip-tied in front of him. He looks worse than last night. His lip is split and bleeding, and his other eye is swollen.
But he's alive, and considering what I've learned, that's a small miracle.
"Sera." His voice breaks. "Oh, thank God."
I move toward him but one of the guards inside the room stops me.
"No touching."
"What is this, prison?" I snap.
He doesn't budge, and his eyes go to the door. I clench my fingers into fists in frustration as I hold back a scream of irritation. He's contemplating calling Leo in, and I know if he does, my time here is over.
I stop a few feet away. Looking at my little brother. The kid I raised after our parents died. The one I've been cleaning up after for years.
The one who got me into this mess.
Anger flares in my chest, and despite how shitty he looks, I feel myself growing cold.
"Are you okay?"
"Do I look okay?" He gestures with his bound hands. "They're treating me like a prisoner."
"You tried to escape."
"Because I'm terrified!" His voice rises. "Sera, you don't understand what these people are capable of. The things I've heard. The things they do."
