Istand outside the warehouse, heart hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to break free.
The rain stopped hours ago, but I’m still damp. Still cold. My legs ache from walking miles through streets I shouldn’t have survived crossing.
But I did.
Ialwaysdo.
The metal door groans when I push it open. Inside, my crew sits scattered around our makeshift planning room. Ricky’s smoking again, annoyingly so. Kay’s on her phone, fingers flying. Jace stands in the corner like a statue.
They all look up when I enter.
“Christ,” Ricky says, stubbing out his cigarette. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Working.” The lie tastes like ash.
Kay’s eyes narrow. “Your shift ended at ten. It’s almost four in the morning.”
I drop my backpack on the table. “I had complications.”
“What kind of complications?” Jace’s voice is gravel and suspicion.
I can’t tell them. Can’t explain that I spent the night in Maksim Korsakov’s bed.
“The kind that are handled,” I say instead.
Ricky stands, crosses his arms. “Hot wired your car, dropped it off by your place.”
I sigh. Grateful, but now they know I’m a liar.
“Gabriel was there looking for you,” he adds.
My stomach drops. “When?”
“Two hours ago. Emir too. They were pissed that you turned off your location?”
Fuck.
I pull out my phone. Seven missed calls. Twelve texts. All from Gabriel.
The last one reads:
Gabriel
You have until sunrise. Then I come for Santi.
My blood turns to ice.
I check the time. 4:23 AM.
Sunrise is in two hours.
“I have to go,” I say, already moving toward the door.
Kay grabs my arm. “Ayla, wait—what’s happening?”
I try and pull free. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Bullshit.” Her grip tightens. “You’re shaking.”
