I wake up in the dark. Ugh, what time is it?

Isaac has his arm wrapped around me in a viselike grip, pinning me to him. I’d be annoyed if I wasn’t so damn confused about how I feel about him.

On one hand, I want to mount him every chance I get. I want to tell him everything, to share my worries and my fears and my dreams with him. I also want him to move out of my way, so I can do what I need to. I get that he’s protective but I don’t always need protecting.

I reach for my purse on the floor and pull out my cellphone. I’ve been hesitant to turn it on since the accident but being in a windowless room gives me no sense of time.

How late have we slept? Isaac’s arm drops to the bed beside me as I roll over, pressing the button to turn on my phone. When the main screen flashes, I expect to see a series of worried text messages and voicemails.

Nothing appears.

It’s a telling thing that no one thought to check on me. I remind myself to call my parents, who likely have no idea that anything bad has happened to me. Scarlett’s just busy, let’s not bother her. I check the time and sigh – it’s later in the morning, and we should get back.

I have a phone call I need to make.

I turn back to face Isaac and shake his arm. The muscle underneath is rock hard, even when his arm is slack, and I ponder whether we have time for a quickie before we head out. You know, to boost morale. Worked last night anyway. Our fight effectively ended, right?

Isaac blinks open his eyes, focusing in on me. “You all right?”

I laugh. I can’t help myself. “Do you know how many times you’ve asked me that in the past week?”

He shrugs, his powerful shoulder lifting and sinking back into the mattress, shifting me a little closer with the movement. “You’ve been pretty not okay a few times this week. It’s a logical question.”

I can’t disagree with him there. “Come on. Let’s see if we can get anything from that other bug before we go.”

He nods, the two of us rising and stretching before we make our way out of the small bedroom and back toward the kitchen. We don’t get that far. Wallace is sitting in the living room with a steaming cup of coffee and his laptop up and running. He looks up as we enter, and I notice Buster is at his feet.

“Good morning. Your canine friend and I have just been having breakfast. I saw you managed to secure the other bug, so I took the liberty of hacking it this morning. Would you like to hear a recording?”

Isaac and I sit across from him on the loveseat again, and he takes my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. We lean in as Juice pulls up the file and clicks the play button. There is more shuffling, sounds of movement, then a phone rings.

“Gareth Briggs.”

My eyes widen, and the breath leaves my body. I am hollow as I continue to listen to his one-sided conversation.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. Just shut your mouth and follow orders, okay? I’m just finishing up a job. Oh, because you never take a phone call on duty? Shut the fuck up, man. I’ll see you later.”

His tone is jovial, like he is talking to a friend. There is some more shuffling around before we hear the door close, and the recording ends. It’s like I’m dying all over again.

I don’t want to look over at Isaac because I’m scared of the smug expression I can just imagine on his face but when I work up the courage to do so, there’s nothing but a dark glower on his chiseled face.

“I’ve wanted to punch that guy’s face in from the moment I saw him. Now I know why.”

Wallace lifts a furry eyebrow at us. “I take it you know this man?”

I nod, still feeling cavernous inside. That empty space begins to fill with fury, a slow, boiling rage that will not be tamed. I rise, unable to sit another minute. “Professor Wallace, I can’t thank you enough for your help. You’ve been a literal lifesaver.”

Wallace shrugs, rising as he faces Isaac and me, and he holds out his hand. “I’ll be a lifesaver if you don’t have to come back a third time,” he corrects me warmly.

I blink. “I’ve been here before?”

Wallace nods with a sad smile. “A couple weeks ago,” he explains. “You needed a tracking device deactivated. Here’s hoping the third time is the charm.”

I want to hug him but I remember that Wallace was never a big fan of hugs. He shakes Isaac’s hand before checking the television prompters in his safe room, deeming it secure for us to depart.

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a gun, holding it out to us. “In case you want extra protection.”

I stare at the weapon, considering, but Isaac shakes his head.

“We won’t need it. I’m ready to beat the shit out of all of them myself. A gun is the easy way out.”

Wallace shrugs. “Suit yourself. Good luck.”

We thank him one last time before we make our exit, calling a local car service on our walk back, mostly just to have witnesses present to scare off any ambushes. By the time we get there, a tow truck is parked by the ditch, and they remove the truck without issue. When Isaac sits in the driver’s seat, he hesitates, then turns the key. The engine purrs without protest, sounding perfectly healthy. He casts a wary glance at me but we have no other way to get home. I send up a silent wish that we get home in one piece, so that I can tear my betrayers to pieces.

The drive back is just as tense and silent as the trip out. I pull out my phone and find Chantel’s phone number, opening up a text message. I tell her that I need to talk, and can we have tea at the coffee shop down the street from my house? She readily agrees, excited to catch up after I left her the other day.

Fucking bitch.

The familiar streets of Somerville are a welcoming sight, and I’m keen for a hot shower and a new outfit. Isaac pulls into the parking lot across the street and we head inside. Buster sniffs around the yard before joining us but even he seems excited to be home.

Isaac stops outside my door. “We should clear out the rest of the bugs if you plan on going inside for anything,” he says, the paragon of sensibility.

I pull my keys out from my purse and open the door, the two of us silent as we comb through the apartment six or seven times. Once we’re convinced that we have all of them, I leave Isaac to take them. I don’t care if he crushes them. I got the information I needed.

He hesitates outside my door, and I wave him off with a silent thank you. Buster scratches at the door upstairs, calling for Isaac in his own way, and with one last lingering look at me, he disappears. He takes a piece of me with him.

I close the door, glancing nervously around me. I’ve unplugged everything in the apartment, so I shouldn’t get any more unexpected surprises. I make quick work of showering and changing, and by the time I’m ready, Chantel has texted that she’s next door. I make quick work of walking over, opening the jingling door to the smell of warm coffee and baked breads. Chantel is seated at a corner table, and she waves to me with enthusiasm.

I don’t bother to smile back.

I sit in the chair across from her and stare at her silently.

Chantel sips her coffee, watching me with a bored expression. “What are you, hungover?”

I reach into my purse and feel my fingertips wrap around her bug, pulling it from the bag and slamming it on the table. When she sees it, her expression falters.

She stares at it before looking up at me. “What is that thing?” she asks, trying to feign ignorance.

Not today.

“It’s the bug you planted in my apartment. I know because I accessed the cloud and heard your voice on the device. I also found the one Gareth planted, too.”

She stares at me, cogs working behind her eyes. I don’t move, and my expression doesn’t change. She’s not going to lie to me anymore. I already detest her for it.

“So, I’m left with one of two options,” I say, letting the suspense draw out. I want her to sweat bullets. I want her to be afraid after what she did to me. I don’t know how far her involvement goes but I know she’s involved, and that makes her an accomplice to my attempted murder. I let the words hang in the air for another minute before I continue.

“I can call the cops with all the data I have on file and let you rot in prison while I pick up the pieces of my life, or I can take information from you to lead me to the ring leader of this whole show, and let you walk free knowing what a piece of shit you are. Personally, I’m a bigger fan of the first option.”

Chantel pales at my words. I’ve scared her. Good. She leaves her coffee to go cold on the table before she leans in, her voice hushed. “Look, I didn’t want you to get hurt in all this, okay? I get that you’re pissed, and you have every right to be, but I’m not the one you want. The people who were after you are having a confidential meeting tonight. I can get information for you and help you out.”

I scoff. Is this woman for real?

“You think I’m going to trust you to gather information for me? Give me the address. I’ll investigate myself.”

Chantel shrugs a delicate shoulder before pulling out a small notepad and scribbling an address on it. She hands it to me, and I take good care not to touch her as I take the paper. I check the address, which is local, and I look back up at her.

“If this is a false lead, I will have no qualms about going straight to the cops about you. Understood?”

She nods, rising from the table. She looks down at me, sorrow in her eyes. Too bad I can’t believe it. “I didn’t want things to go this way, Scarlett. You have no reason to believe me but it is true.”

I don’t have a reply to that, so I stare at the wall as she walks out, the door tinkling behind her. I stare at her unfinished cup of coffee, and I start to plan. I will be the one going to that meeting. I will find out who did this and I will use that information against them. I will go to the cops, the FBI, I don’t care.

Now that I know where and when to find them, I prepare to take them down.