I look at Konstantin. He’s standing perfectly still, unsurprised.
"What... what is this?" I stammer.
"We have a warrant for your arrest," Agent Miller informs, holding up the paper.
"Arrest?" I laugh. "For what? I haven’t done anything!"
"We seized a vessel in the Atlantic this morning," Miller says. "TheBlackwood Star. It was carrying undeclared hazardous materials. Chemicals used for refining heroin."
The room spins.
TheBlackwood Star. That was the ship from the Atlantic Loop. The one Konstantin forced me to sign for in the study. The one I authorized while my head was spinning from the sedative.
"I..." I look at Konstantin again. "Konstantin?"
He says nothing. He just watches as my world crumbles.
"Your signature is on the customs manifest, Ms. Blackwood," Miller says, pulling handcuffs from his belt. "You authorized the shipment and signed the false declaration."
"No." I back away, hitting Konstantin’s chest. "No, I didn't know. I was forced! He made me?—"
"Save it for the judge," Miller says, reaching for my arm. "Helena Blackwood, you are under arrest for international trafficking and customs fraud."
The metal cuffs click around my wrists. Tight. Too tight.
I look to Konstantin. He’s the only one who can stop this. He’s the Boss. He owns the police. He owns this city.
"Konstantin," I beg, as the agent pulls me forward. "Do something!"
But he simply looks at me, not moving a muscle. His blue eyes are glacial.
"I can't help you," he says with indifference. "You signed the papers."
He reaches out, and rather than stroking my cheek, he straightens my collar, smoothing a wrinkle while the agent locks the cuffs even tighter.
It’s a gesture of ownership. He’s tidying me for the slaughter.
He lets them take me. The same hands that bruised my waist last night stay perfectly still as he watches strangers drag me away, the humiliation burning my skin.
He isn’t going to save me.
He’s going to let me burn.
14
HELENA
The interrogation room is designed to break human beings.
It’s shivering cold, and there are no windows, only a two-way mirror that stares back at me like a dead eye.
My wrists are raw where the cuffs dug in. They took my purse and my shoes. I’m left sitting here barefoot on the dirty linoleum, hugging my knees to my chest, trembling.
International Trafficking. Twenty years.
The words replay in my mind, a loop of terror. I think about my father hiding with the Italians. I think about the life I fought so hard to save, dissolving into nothing. I’ll rot in a cell. I’ll be an old woman before I see freedom again.
The door buzzes and swings open with a heavy, metallic clang.
