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I blink a few times, my eyes struggling to focus.

Normally, this is the part where I let go. Not Anna, I hold her to my body as our heaving chests find the same rhythm, my face pressed to her hair, breathing her in. My hand slides up her back and pauses at her nape, and I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck and curl her into my chest.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I murmur.

“Yeah.” Feeling equally speechless.

My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten yet today.

Anna laughs. “How does Italian sound?”

A blissful smile rests on my lips. “Phenomenal.”

I sit up and walk to the bathroom, bringing back a warm towel to clean her up. Her fingers encircle my wrist and she pulls herself to a seated position, kissing me.

“I’ll get started on a sauce, I hope you like garlic,” she says, before scooting off the bed and putting her clothes back on. Silly thing to do considering I’m just going to be stripping them off her later.

Anna heads to the kitchen and I sit up on the side of the bed, scrubbing a hand down my face. As much as I would love to doze off after a seriously emotionally heavy day, I have work to do.

Leaning down, I swipe my jeans and fish my phone out of the pocket.

I connect to the app I previously set up and send the spoof text to the number that’s been blackmailing her, pretending to be Anna. I say there isn’t enough money to pay off the weekly amount, requesting an extension.

Almost immediately I get a reply from the asshole—telling “her” she has to pay it off in person. I play along and push back just enough for it to be believable. Let a little panic bleed through my messages to make him think he’s got the upper hand.

We go back and forth for a few minutes before settling on Wednesday night.

Perfect. I’ll make sure Anna has started back at therapy by then—keep her occupied and somewhere safe, while I give this piece of shit the worst Wednesday of his life . . . however long that may be.

The battery-operated work lamp buzzes softly behind me as I finish draping the last of the clear plastic around the abandoned motel room. The place went under when they put in a new highway and traffic got diverted; it’s been sitting here for years. Great meeting spot.

The owners are less than savory; I’ve done a couple surveillance jobs for them in the past. I vaguely explained the situation and they graciously agreed to rent out a room for me to conduct business in, and afterward they will handle the cleanup.

It’s not cheap, but it is worth it.

With gloved hands, I zip up the black diver suit, pulling the wolf mask over my face—I’m totally in my mask era. While testing the straps on his wrists and ankles, his head lolls to the side as he slowly regains consciousness. Jesus, about time. I tug off his blindfold and he groans, squinting at the sudden bright light invading his retinas. Probably not helping the rager of a headache he’s currently navigating.

If I had asked him to meet me at the motel, it might have looked like a setup, but it wasn’t difficult to lure him to the trap house—which I had the location of thanks to the GPS coordinates on the video’s metadata—not to mention, the irony was too delectable to resist.

After that, he went down easy.

The brick helped.

Then it was just a matter of transporting him to this motel room, which wasn’t difficult.

“So. You’re Steve.”

He glances to the corners of the bed he’s tied to and jostles the restraints. “What the fuck?”

I glance down at the table I’ve arranged next to the bed and straighten one of the syringes so it aligns neatly with the others, stationed next to my lino cutter and some rubber tubing.

“I’ve got some questions for you, and if you answer correctly, I promise this will go easy.”

He laughs, I’ll give him that one. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Hello?” I point to my face. “Wolf.”

He curls his lip in a grimace. Whatever, I think I look cute.