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  “He... he hired us.”

  “For what?”

  Myra shakes, every breath more painful as the last.

  “Revenge.”

  Chapter 7

  Fox

  I did this.

  Dani was taken because of me.

  “Revenge?” I repeat.

  “I’ll tell you everything,” Myra says, shaking against the table. “When, why, how.” She turns her head to look at me. “But you have to let me go.”

  “Don’t you dare make that deal, Fox.”

  I raise my eyes to Lilah’s. She stands tall at the other end of the table, her arms locked across her chest.

  I blink twice, staring hard into her eyes. “I don’t have a choice,” I say slowly.

  Lilah squints. “She’s not leaving here.”

  “I’m no good to you dead,” Myra says.

  Dante presses into her arm. “You’re no good alive, either.”

  “Lucy Vaughn,” Myra says. “He hired us to take her, too. Don’t you want to know why?”

  Dante pauses.

  “Promise to let me walk out of here and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  “No.” Lilah leans forward and digs her nails into the table. “Fox, if you make that deal, I will rip your fucking throat out.”

  “Lilah,” Dante says. “Cool it.”

  She looks at him and her face darkens more. “No, don’t you turn on me, too. She killed Elijah. Our brother. My twin.”

  He looks down. “I’m getting Lucy back,” he says, swallowing hard. “I don’t care how.”

  Lilah eases backward. “Don’t do this, Dante.”

  Dante glances at me and I nod. His expression holds, strong yet regretful, before he finally bows his head.

  I pull the knife out of Myra’s hand.

  “You fucking idiots,” Lilah seethes.

  Dante releases Myra’s arm. “Take a walk, Lilah,” he says.

  “Fuck you.”

  She storms out, her boots stomping down the hallway until a door slams somewhere in the house.

  I grab a chair and shove it behind Myra, forcing her to take a seat. She slinks down into it and inspects her broken hands, cradling them as tears spill down her face.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “Shut up and talk.” I sit on the table’s edge, my knife still ready for anything while Dante closes in on her other side.

  “After...” Myra takes a breath, wincing as she tries to bend her fingers but can’t. “After you deflected, Gio came to us. He was a little upset. He paid for a product and we didn’t exactly deliver our best.”

  I look at Luka, he and Sofia still standing behind her. The day we met flashes in my head. I was sent to kill him, but I didn’t. I helped him save Sofia from Gio instead... and he helped me escape Snake Eyes in return.

  “Then,” Myra continues, “you killed the second squad we sent to get the job done and... well, at that point, our reputation wasn’t looking so hot. Gio demanded to know what agent it was who tossed him out of a plane and kidnapped his beloved bride. He wanted your head on a spike and the Boss agreed.” She glances at me with rolling eyes. “Mercer, on the other hand...”

  “He wanted me back,” I say.

  She nods. “I told him to get over it, but he had the dumbest boner for you. We figured it was harmless, and it was for a while, but then the next thing we knew, he killed Senator Lamb and cut up a movie star on TV just to get your attention.

  “At that point, he dropped off the radar completely.” She glares over her shoulder. “Meanwhile, the Russians were hunting us down, the Boss was panicking over the master file, and Gio got impatient. He had a spike with no head, and he wasn’t about to continue negotiating deals between the Zappia family and Snake Eyes until he had it. Then, the news broke. Terrorist group exposed.” Her eyes shift toward Dante. “Gio wasn’t too pleased, obviously. Not only had Fox disappeared into the ether again, now we had another rogue agent who tried to kill his baby brother.”

  “I wasn’t rogue,” Dante says. “My family was always loyal to you.”

  “Then, why strangle old man Spencer?” she asks, genuinely curious.

  “He tried to kill Lucy. It was personal.”

  Her eyes roll. “And let me guess. You would do anything for love?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Whatever.” She sighs. “Anyway, after you popped Marty’s face cherry, Gio went berserk. He started thinking a little more... outside the box.”

  “How so?” I ask.

  “If he couldn’t have you and Dante mounted on his wall, then he’d settle for the next best thing,” she says.

  I bite down, not wanting to say it. “Dani.”

  “And Lucy,” Dante says.

  “And Lilah,” Myra adds. “After I told him about Archer shoving big brother Enzo into a trunk, he officially added Mr. Allen to his growing list of vengeance. Unfortunately, while securing Dani and Lucy seemed easy enough, I regretfully screwed up Lilah’s capture.” She shrugs. “What can I say? We didn’t expect the band to break up in London and we lost track of her en route to... well, here. Mea culpa.”

  London. They were following us the whole time, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike… but they didn’t come to Los Angeles for me.

  They came for Dani.

  And I left her there. Lamb to the slaughter.

  I tighten my grip on the knife. “This was never about finding me, was it?”

  “Nope,” Myra answers. “Not directly. We serve our client’s needs before our own. You know that as well as I do, but efficiency.” She nods. “Two birds, one stone. If we can put a few bullets through your eyes while delivering Gio his new brides, then we’ll make it work.”

  “Brides?” Dante repeats.

  “What?” she says with a smirk. “Did you think he was just gonna kill them? No, Gio wants something a little more poetic than that...”

  Dante looks at me with the same aching dread growing in the pit of my stomach.

  “Heirs,” Sofia says behind us. “Gio wants heirs.”

  “You wouldn’t deliver, so... what’s a man to do?” Myra says to Sofia. “With only one Zappia boy left, someone’s gotta repopulate the bloodline. Who better than the beautiful soulmates of his mortal enemies?”

  “Like hell, he will,” Dante growls.

  “I already told you. It’s too late. Once they’re gone, they’re gone. Even I wasn’t told where they were going.”

  “Fox...”

  I raise my head to look at Sofia behind me. Luka reaches for her, but she steps out of his hands, tears streaming down her face.

  “Fox, I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her lip trembling. “This is my fault, I...”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head once. “It’s not, Sofia.”

  “Well...” Myra hums. “Technically—”

  I grab her right wrist and she yelps in pain as I slam it against the table to shut her up.

  “And Caleb?” I ask, leaning forward. “What does Gio want with her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I raise my knife again and Myra lurches.

  “Wait — stop! Really! I don’t know why they took her, too. Caleb’s always been off-limits.”

  I frown. “Off-limits? Why is Caleb off-limits?”

  “Because she’s a legacy hire.”

  I turn to find Boxcar lingering in the doorway.

  “She’s what?” I ask him.

  He walks over and I relax the grip on Myra’s wrist. “Caleb’s father,” he says. “He’s an agent. I saw him myself.”

  I furrow my brow.

  “We’ve been watching her,” Myra says slowly. “When she enlisted after Casey’s recruitment, we saw some pretty obvious potential. We wanted to bring her in but then she got a bit upstaged out in the field by the great Fox Fitzpatrick and his magic sniper rifle. The Boss made an executive decision and we placed Caleb on the backburner. Until now, I guess. I’d call and ask for
you, but... I don’t really care.”

  “Where is her father now?” I ask.

  Myra nods at Boxcar. “That one’s for you, dude. I’ve been a little tied-up.”

  Boxcar exhales. “He was here, but I let him go.”

  I squint. “You let him go?”

  “What was I supposed to do, Fox?” he asks. “Kill him?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s my father-in-law.”

  “He’s a time bomb,” I argue. “He probably ran to the Boss the second he left here.”

  “Gee, if only I’d been smart enough to think of that.” He exhales hard. “He’s in Paris. I’ve been tracking him since he left.”

  “How?”

  His eyes drop to Myra. “Let’s not go full Bond villain here and explain all the tricks in front of her, all right?”

  Myra grunts in disappointment. “I don’t like it. But I respect it.”

  I offer Boxcar a silent, respectful nod. He doesn’t return it.

  Luka clears his throat. “If Gio is claiming brides, then there will be a wedding,” he says, bringing us back on topic. “I doubt he’d would abandon his family’s traditions, even in a fit of vengeance.”

  Sofia nods. “Yes. If he does this, it will be in the Zappia way.”

  “What does that mean?” Dante asks.

  “It means...” She takes a hopeful breath. “There’s still time. Zappia brides, we...” She stops herself. “They are given days of silent prayer and tutelage. During which Gio will not be kind, but... he won’t do anything to them before the wedding night. It’s not their way.”

  Dante seems comforted by the thought but only for a second. “And the wedding night?” he asks.

  Sofia’s eyes fall.

  I deflate. I’ve seen what Gio is capable of putting his wives through with my own eyes. Sofia, bruised and broken, screaming in Luka’s arms. Covered in blood. She betrayed him and she barely made it out alive.

  I’m not about to picture what he’ll put Dani through because of me.

  “We won’t let him get that far,” I say. I turn back to Myra. “Where would they go?”

  “I told you,” she says, annoyed. “They didn’t tell me.”

  “Take a guess.”

  She scoffs. “Fuck. I don’t know. Bangkok?”

  “You said he negotiated deals with Snake Eyes for the Zappia family,” I say. “Where did those happen?”

  “The estate in Rome, at first,” she answers. “Then... all over? Usually in our safe houses throughout Europe and the US.”

  I bite down. That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.

  “Anyway....” Myra slowly rises out of her chair. “It’s been great, but I think that’s it for me—”

  I push her back down. “Not so fast.”

  “I told you everything I know!”

  Dante sneers. “I don’t think we’ve scratched the surface of everything you know, Myra.”

  “Okay, yeah, sure, if you wanna get pedantic about it, but I told you everything relevant to your current situation. What more do you want?”

  I slam her head down on the table. “What more do I want?” I ask through gritted teeth. “I want my fucking life back.”

  “Get in line!” she says. “You think you’re the only one who lost their lives to this organization? You think others before you haven’t tried to do exactly what you’re doing now?” She tries to shake me off. I push her down harder. “You want to live, Fox? Then run. Forget what you know, where you’ve been, who you are. Just run.”

  “I’ve tried that already. You wouldn’t let me go.”

  “And she never will! That’s what your life is now. It’s not about happiness or love. It’s about her.” She exhales and her lip quivers. “We serve her... whether we like it or not. We are all replaceable in her eyes. Even me.”

  “Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?” I dig my fingers into the back of her neck. “Look around. You have no friends here, Myra.”

  “Amber,” she whispers. “My name... is Amber.”

  “Well, Amber,” I say, pushing off her. I take a step back. “You made your choice, same as the rest of us. Recruitment into Snake Eyes is strictly voluntary, isn’t that what you always said?”

  Her eyes lock on mine, pure rage behind a veil of black hair.

  I grab my knife by the blade and hold the handle up in the air. “Lilah.”

  Lilah steps back into the room from the hallway and takes the knife from me.

  “She’s all yours,” I say.

  Myra raises her head. “Wait...”

  Lilah looks at me and smiles. “Welcome back, Fox,” she says.

  I walk out of the room.

  “Fox!” Myra shouts after me. “No. We had a deal, Fox!”

  “I lied,” I say, never looking back.

  Chapter 8

  Dani

  There’s a knocking sound somewhere outside of this room. Heels against a hardwood floor. It draws closer. It passes by. It fades off again.

  I open my eyes. The ceiling is old and gray, just like the bed I lie on. I roll over and stare at the three-drawer dresser in the corner, obviously meant for a child. A vanity sits by the wall, but the mirror is broken.

  I try to ignore the crib beside it.

  Where am I?

  I look at my left hand. It’s surgically wrapped with gauze and bandages, but it still hurts as much as it did when Marilyn sliced it open and stole nearly a pint of blood from me. My ring is gone. That hurts the most.

  My clothes aren’t mine. I wear a long dress with long sleeves down to my wrists. They’re clean but I could definitely use a shower.

  How long have I been here?

  I stand up off the bed and take a step toward the window, suddenly stopping as my ankle catches. I give it a yank. My heart drops as I realize I’m chained to the bedpost. I’m not going anywhere. At least, nowhere five feet away from this bed.

  I lean closer to the window, stretching my arm to push the thick, jet-black curtains aside. They obscure even blacker painted glass, but I can hear signs of city life on the other side. Cars honking and sirens wailing. Distant voices on the street below.

  I tap on the glass with my fingertip. It’s breakable. That’s good to know.

  There’s that knocking again.

  This time, it stalls behind my door. A set of keys jingle and I brace myself to face my captor.

  The lock clicks and the door opens slowly.

  A woman stands there with lush, brown hair and comforting eyes, though I don’t feel very comforted. She wears an old-fashioned dress you’d see on 60’s sitcom wives and carries a small tray with a sandwich and apple slices, perfectly arranged with care. A small bottle of water sits beside a tiny plastic cup. I hear the pills click around inside as she picks it up and walks toward me.

  She stops a foot away and extends her hands, offering me the pills and water.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  She says nothing. Her eyes say nothing.

  “What is it?” I ask again.

  She shakes the cup, urging me to take it.

  “Listen, Nurse Ratched,” I say, “I’m not taking anything unless you tell me who you are and what the fuck it is.”

  “They’re antibiotics.”

  A man appears behind her in the doorway. The woman bows her head and takes a wide step backward as he walks into the room.

  He pauses in front of us and smiles, his cheeks dimpling with boyish charm. “For your hand,” he says, gesturing toward my bandage.

  I look between them, staying quiet as he takes the water from her and opens his palm for the pills.

  “It’s all right,” he says to her. “You can go.”

  The woman bows and quickly shuffles back out into the hallway, leaving the door open behind her.

  “You’ll have to excuse my mother. She’s been told not to speak to you.” He extends his hand. Tiny, white pills sit in his palm. “Here. Don’t want to catch infection.” He chuckles, waiting p
atiently.

  He’s got the same features as the woman, so the mother thing isn’t too much of a stretch. He’s poised, yet relaxed. Completely in control and he knows it.

  I turn up my hand and he drops the pills into it. “Who are you?” I ask.

  He twists the cap off the bottle and offers me the water. “If I had known they would bleed you, I would have requested somewhere a little less delicate,” he says, shaking his head at my hand. “Cuts to the palm are just so... impossible to heal.”

  “Who are you?” I ask again.

  “Take the pills,” he says, the pleasant tone draining from his voice. “Then, we’ll talk.”

  I pop them into my mouth and take a quick sip from the bottle to help swallow them down.

  “Now, please sit,” he says, turning away. He walks to the table by the door and picks up the tray of food. “I won’t tell you twice.”

  I lower onto the edge of the bed. He sets the tray down beside me and snatches an apple slice for himself before sliding away and sitting down on the vanity’s stool.

  He nips off a piece of apple and grins. “Roxie Roberts, huh?” he says, chewing softly. “This is exciting. I don’t think we’ve ever had a real celebrity here before.”

  “Where’s Caleb?” I ask.

  “Do not think for a moment your star status will do you any favors here.” He clears his throat. “We have a few simple rules that you will adhere to.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Number one being that you are not entitled to answers,” he says, raising his voice. “You will not ask questions. Not to me or the staff of this household. Is that clear?”

  I bite down hard.

  “Number two...” He tilts his head. “You will answer when spoken to.”

  I stare at him, trying not to blink. “Who are you?” I ask.

  He nods slowly before putting the remaining apple bit in his mouth and rising off the stool. “And number three...” He moves closer to stand over me. “You will do as I tell you.” He touches my forehead and slowly creeps his finger down my cheek. “You will obey me... the way a woman is required to obey her husband.”

  I flinch away but he snatches my chin, forcing me to look up at him again.