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Still, I can’t help but wonder. Does he have these in all his homes, or is this one really just for me?

Dimitri’s arms shift around me, cradling me against his chest as he carries me out. I lean my head weakly against his shoulder while he walks down the hallway to another closed door. He pauses there, readjusting me again to punch in a code.

Inside, cool air envelops my overheated skin and I lazily glance around the masculine room. It must be his bedroom—dark wood, dark linen sheets, a massive bed in the center. He lowers me onto it with a gentle care that I wasn’t afforded in the other room, and I sink into the pillows, utterly drained.

Then his phone buzzes. His jaw clenches as he checks the screen, and without a word, he lifts it to his ear and walks out, the door clicking shut behind him.

I blink at the closed door, the lethargy fading.

Not even a goodbye?

A lancet of hurt pierces through me and I’m still trying to decipher everything when another buzz draws my attention to the bedside table. My clutch.

Shit.

I jolt upright, panic sparking through me before the thought is even fully formed. I left it on the floor by the door when Dimitri blindfolded me. Someone must have brought it in here. Which means…

Shit. Shit. Shit.

How could I have been so careless? What if they went through it? They could have easily checked my phone, seen the messages, or worse—they could have found the syringe.

My heart pounds as I scramble across the bed and tear open the clutch.

A momentary wave of relief crashes over me when nothing seems to be out of place. It’s short-lived. A second later, the buzz comes again.

It’s my phone.

My heart drops as I pull it out, glancing at the door quickly before I check the screen.

Two messages from an unknown number. The same number from this morning. I gulp as I read them, my blood chilling.

You should know he’s already looking into you. Get it done while you still have his attention. Before he finds out what a liar you are.

Do it now, or your friend dies.

Any remaining warmth instantly drains from my body, chilling me to the bone. I’m suddenly hyperaware that I’m totally naked in a stranger’s bed in an estate with armed guards on the perimeter, with a syringe hidden in my clutch and a countdown I can no longer ignore.

I delete the messages without replying, set the phone down, and reach into the hidden compartment. My fingers close around the syringe—it’s cool to the touch, and lighter than it should be.

I hold it up and stare at the clear fluid inside. I still don’t know what it does. I don’t want to. I’m not a killer, but clearly, I’m not much of a nurse, either. I’ve been ignoring the obvious for days, feeding that ignorance carefully, because knowing would make this so much harder. It’s already hard enough.

My eyes warm and I sniff, blinking the tears away, but they come anyway.

I don’t have a choice.

Syringe in hand, I slip under the covers, tears tracking silently down my face, heart throbbing painfully.

“It’s either him or you,” I whisper to myself, but when that doesn’t do anything, I grip it tighter and think of the only thing that really matters.

“This is for you, Millie.”

17

DIMITRI

“We have surveillance on him. We have surveillance on Salvi!”

The glee in Noah’s voice is impossible to miss.