No sound, no light, not a hint of movement. I start around the first corner, pausing every so often to listen.
The automatic overhead lights escort me. Beyond being bright, they make an electricwhooshevery time a new set flicks on. There’s no way Ian won’t know I’m coming.
A long, dark corridor faces me as I turn what I think is the last corner. The hollow passageway echoes with my footsteps, and Islow, raising my gun, ready to pull the trigger and put a bullet through his chest.
At least that’s what I tell myself. That I’ll do it—I’ll shoot.
“Nadia.” A disembodied voice resonates through the hall.
My grip tightens on my gun, my stance lowers ever so slightly, ready to take a shot.
“You weren’t supposed to find me here.” He must have cameras set up, maybe a mic. He’s watching me.
“You weren’t supposed to tell me to kill your wife.”
Laughter—deep, reverberating. My head whips one way, then the other—where is he? Except for the part where there aren’t any actual mirrors, it’s like I’m in a fun house—everything appears the same regardless of which direction I look, his voice sounding like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
He chuckles. “You weren’t going to kill her.”
“Are you so sure?”
“Well, did you?”
I take a tentative step down the passageway, eyes inspecting each orange door. Was it the fourth one down? The fifth? Or maybe we entered from the other side, and I’m at the wrong end of the hall altogether.
“You want to kill my husband. Why wouldn’t I kill your wife?”
“Because, unlike me, you have…morals.” He utters the last word like it’s disgusting. And maybe to Ian it is.
“I’ll tell you where she is as soon as I have Brian.Alive.”
“Mm, I don’t think so.” Silence for one, two, three seconds. And then, his tone going from playful to serious—“Nadia. I’m trying to help you. Let me make this easy.”
Annoyance builds up, flows over. “You’re not helping. I don’tneedhelp. What I need is my husband.”
“So you can kill him? So you can collect the money?”
I growl at the thought, that he would think I’d track him down for that and that alone. After everything we’ve been through, he should know me better.
“He’s been lying to you, Nadia. Meanwhile, I have been nothing but honest. You’ve always known the real me.”
My mouth gapes open. What the fuck does this have to do with him being honest? Which—furthermore—he hasn’t been. Not to mention…
“I’ve been lying too,” I growl. “I’d say Brian and I need therapy, if anything.”
A harsh laugh. “Do you think he even loves you?”
The question steals some of my resolve. I’m not sure. But that’s the thing: I have to find out.
My gaze catches on one storage unit in particular. The one with no padlock.
“I don’t know,” I say to Ian’s voice. “But I plan to ask him.”
And with that, I squat down, grab the bottom of the rolling door, and yank it upward.
Chapter Forty-Eight
A gun points at myforehead.
