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His hand landed on the wall next to her head, the tattoos along his hands blurry and black as he leaned in and inhaled.

“Now, you’re done. No more playing. I was just the wrong brother. Wasn’t I?”

Everything was slow, calm, blood rushing in her ears. Riley dropped her shoulders. Didn’t try for breath that wouldn’t come. One, two.

“Wasn’t. I. You’ve been stringing me along, running to Candida to whine about attention you asked for. You owe me. And I always collect. Always, Riley. You hear me?”

Gio bared his teeth, his eyes bloodshot. Cinnamon stung her nose. His pores were enlarged over his cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead like hundreds of eyes. Blood dripped down her chin from the cut on her lip, and Gio tracked it with his gaze.

Three.

She dropped with everything she had. She became dead weight and ripped her arm out of his grip. She hit the dusty concrete, and air rushed into her lungs. She kicked out, skimming Gio’s knee with her foot. She kicked again, and he swore, jerking back. Dust streaked her black pants and floated in the air.

The stairwell door opened, and they both looked up. Genuine fear flickered over Gio’s face as Nico stood there and looked down at them.

He was ice cold. Silent.

Nico didn’t move.

No one is coming. Get going.

She scrambled to her feet and raced down the stairs. She slipped on the landing and hurtled around the corner. She caught herself on the railing and kept going. Down and down. Someone shouted in Italian, or maybe it was her name. Riley didn’t stop.

She didn’t count the floors. The stairs just kept going, round and round. She’d lost track of how many times. She was dizzy and she had black spots in her vision.

She might have forgotten to breathe.

Riley tested doors at each landing, and when she found one that opened, she took it.

The floor smelled stale. Plastic sheeting hung from exposed framing. No one followed. She pressed her back against the wall, breath stretching her lungs.

She coughed on the dust in the air. She had to get out of here.

No one is coming.

Tears dripped down her cheeks, and this time it really was from the adrenaline.

Maybe if she asked.

Maybe…

She wiped the blood off her lip, and it mixed with the dust that still coated her hands.

Chapter 27

Saint

Saint’s phone rattled the tin of nails as it buzzed on the counter. He walked over and flipped it. His heart leapt in his chest like he was a teenager again when he saw the name. The phone buzzed for the third time, and he caught it right before it went to voicemail.

“Hey,” he said, a smile on his lips.

The ragged intake of breath raked claws up his back.

The shop faded and dulled and came back in sharp focus.

“Hi—”

“Where are you?”