The van cashes along, my body is tossed from one side of it to the next as it speeds down roads I can’t see. I throw myself against the back door and palm around in the darkness, finding a latch. I wrap my hands around it, jerking it up and down as hard as I can to free myself, preparing to throw myself from the vehicle if it means being free.

I’ll take a broken limb over death at this point.

I let out a frustrated growl as the door refuses to budge, somehow locked from the outside. The van makes another sharp turn and I’m thrown to the other side, my back slamming against the wall as the air leaves my body, leaving me stunned. I crawl back toward the other side, finding the latch again and using it as an anchor, holding on for dear life.

Oh, God. What have I gotten into now?

I focus on my breath, desperately trying to keep calm as the van slows, taking on a more leisurely pace, just going for a regular old drive. No one able to suspect that there’s a hostage in the back. I press my face up against the door.

“Help!” I scream. “Someone help me, please!”

My voice sounds ragged and tinny, and it echoes back at me, letting me know that I’m the only one who can hear. I continue to cling to the latch, thinking about what I can do when they pull open the door. Maybe I can surprise them, jump out, and sprint off for my life. A memory of a shadowy alley swims across the darkness of my sight, a chain link fence, a man in a black mask.

Somehow, I don’t think running worked for me the first time. I imagine they won’t want to make that mistake again. My heart pounds, my blood hot even as I’m pressed against the ice-cold metal of the van, my fingers aching as I hold onto the door for dear life.

Dear life. How I’ll miss you.

I steel my nerves, angry with myself for even having such a thought. I’m Scarlett Smith. I’m not going to give in that easily. I’m going to fight until my last fucking breath. I don’t have a choice now. The van slows, making one last turn, then stops.

I have no idea where we are but I can guess. As I’m planning my escape, the door flies outward, my frosty fingers losing their grip instantly.

Fuck.

“Aw, she was going to try and ambush us. So cute.”

The patronizing voice is rough and deep, from a man that I don’t recognize. He looks down at me before raising his fist and backhanding me across the face; my eyes fill with black spots as he drags me out from the back of the vehicle.

“That’s for biting me, bitch,” he hisses in my ear. His breath is hot and moist, and it sends shivers down my spine.

“There’s more where that came from,” I say, kicking my leg back to try and land one on his balls. He leans back and laughs at my efforts, and I’m torn between fighting my way out and crying in despair.

“Let’s get you wrapped up a little tighter then, shall we?”

He wraps his beefy arms around me, the smell of his body odor sharp against my nostrils as he pins me to him, my arms against my side. He squeezes tight and the air leaves my body, suffocating me for a minute before he finally releases, my breath coming out in ragged coughs.

“Oh, yeah. This is going to be fun. You’ve earned what’s coming to you now, after getting away last time. I can’t wait. If you scream for help though I’ll have to drive a knife into your side right now, so don’t do it, okay?”

His voice is eager, and I want to kick at him again but he’s simply too strong. He turns me away from the van and the back of the Victorian house, Chantel’s dad’s house appears. Another man opens the back door and my captor drags me inside. If I’d wanted to cry for help, it is too late now.

I’m carried down a floral-scented hallway, the smell reminding me of a funeral as he finally opens a side door, dragging me inside.

“I think we might have time for a quickie before the meeting starts, don’t you?” he asks, shifting his hand up to grope my breast.

My heart fills with terror. I know that I’ll likely be tortured before they finally do away with me, and I prepare to make my last stand.

“I don’t, actually.”

My captor turns, still groping me as we both stare at Gareth. His stony eyes land on the hand cradling my breast before he looks back up at the man behind me.

“I’ll tie her up. Richie wants to debrief with you.”

“Just try not to fuck us over again, will you, Gareth?”

“You better watch your mouth, Aaron, or you’ll be joining her.”

His eyes are intense, his tone laced with dire warning. I’ve never seen this side of Gareth before, and it’s terrifying. My captor seems to take his words seriously, because he releases me, the blood rushing back into my limbs as I tumble to the ground.

He glares at Gareth as he makes his exit. I don’t bother to thank him for saving me from rape. I imagine I’ll be experiencing worse by the end of this.

He stares down at me, not moving. I wonder if I can dodge past him and make one last-ditch escape effort.

He shakes his head, apparently reading my thoughts. “Don’t try it, Scarlett. You’re not making it out this time.”

His voice is sad as he steps in, lifting me up. I would find it a gesture of kindness if he didn’t instantly pin my arms behind my back. He pulls out a chair from a side desk and sits me down before reaching for a handful of zip ties, which he uses to connect my hands and feet. The plastic digs into my skin, stinging every time I shift. He steps back, about to say something when a voice echoes in from the other room.

“Gareth! Tie the bitch down and then get in here. We have to get started.”

Gareth takes one last look at me, and conflict roils in his gaze. Maybe I can use that to my advantage.

“Gareth, don’t do this. Please. You loved me once. You wouldn’t harm someone you love.”

He shakes his head before walking out the door. He leaves the portal open.

They haven’t once tried to conceal their location or faces from me. They know they won’t have to, that I won’t be telling anyone anything after tonight. My stomach twists as bile rises up my throat. It takes everything in me not to throw up as their meeting begins.

Apparently, Chantel wasn’t a total liar.

They’re talking. They’re acting as if I’m not even a person, someone who can hear their plans.

“This meeting will come to order,” a man says, and someone snorts.

“Honestly, Richie. We’re not exactly formal here.”

“Shut the fuck up, Gareth. You have no say in any of this. Let’s do a round up before we discuss the girl. What’s everyone’s status?”

Voices around the room begin reporting on identities they’d managed to steal and how much money they’d acquired. Broken accounts. Viruses in mainframes that copied passwords and funneled random dollars into a Swiss bank account. Worms that couldn’t be rooted out. They speak in millions.

“Great. You know what to do with the funds. Now let’s talk about the girl. She’s already been a huge pain in the ass. We should just kill her and get it over with but we don’t want any possible traces to us. It would be nice if Chantel fucking decided to show up to help us out with that tonight but apparently, she’s too busy.”

The mention of Chantel has my mind racing. Why isn’t she here? Because she knows I’m scouting—or at least, I should be? The anger in Richie’s voice is real as he goes on a tirade, bashing Chantel in colorful language.

“Richie, move the fuck on. No one cares that Chantel isn’t here,” Gareth says.

“Your opinion doesn’t matter, Gareth. What do you know about it anyway?”

“Would you stop being a fucking dick? Just tell us what you want us to do.”

“Well, do you think you can handle another little fire, or is that too much for you? Because last I checked, this should have been taken care of weeks ago, yet here we are.”

“It’s not my fault the fire department got there in time.”

“Yes, it is. They shouldn’t have been made aware of it in the first place. You should have hacked their system and brought it down. But you didn’t, and now our biggest liability is sitting in that fucking room!”

“Just let me handle it, okay? I won’t fail again.”

“Oh, do you pinky promise?” Richie says, his voice high pitched with mockery.

“Fuck off, Richie. I’m going to take care of it.”

“You better. Because if you don’t – and I don’t care if you’re my brother – I’ll fucking tie you two together and burn you alive myself.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Gareth counters but even I can hear that he doesn’t believe his own words.

Richie laughs, and the room laughs with him.

“Just go get her prepped. Let’s not draw this out too long, okay? We’ve got work to do.”

Feet shuffle as the meeting adjourns to another room. A solitary pair of footsteps head in my direction.

Gareth appears in the doorway, his expression angry. “He’s such a fucking asshole sometimes,” he grumbles as he approaches me.

“Seriously. Why do you even work with him?”

Gareth’s eyes land on me, and I’m watching him carefully. One wrong move and I can find a way to free myself. I have to believe that I can.

“You don’t remember the past few months, do you? That’s almost a shame. You have no idea what’s going on right now.”

“I have a fucking clue,” I sneer. Fuck it. They’re going to kill me. Why not tell it like it is? “I hacked your bugs. Chantel was an obvious plant, motherfucker. Your criminal record erased. And I found the code for your route into that federal website.”

I have to do anything I can to delay this. I have to.

Gareth stares at me, taking in my features as though memorizing them for the last time. “You know, you found that code on my computer,” he tells me, his voice soft and wistful. “It was my fault, Scarlett. We were about to leave for the movies and I was in the shower. You tried to check your email, and I didn’t close down that one little file. Such a tiny… yet critical… mistake.” Gareth’s eyes glint coldly. “From that point on, as much as it hurt, I knew that you were as good as dead. When you got amnesia, I thought we might be able to let you go… but then you had to keep digging. Besides,” he adds, “you fucked that fireman. So forget it. Just die.” He clenches his jaw and whispers, unbelievably, “I did love you, you know.”

I can’t help but stare at him in utter disbelief.

“Gareth,” I whisper, horrified. “How can you be like this? How can you say that you loved me, and then let me burn alive? Because fucking Richie says so?” I hiss, plying on the tension I sensed between him and his brother. “Untie me. Let me go. Set the building on fire. I’ll run away. No one will know.”

“No.” Gareth’s voice is a whisper, too, and his eyes are strangely sad now. “If he found out, he would kill me. That would be my third strike. There’s too much at stake now. It’s me or you, Scarlett.”

“You can run away, too. You don’t have to do this. It’s just money. You’re not like this. I know you’re not.”

“It’s not about the money,” Gareth says, sprinkling gasoline around the room now. “It’s Richie. We grew up criminals. We were orphans outside the system… and Richie took care of everything. I helped him.” He looks over at me after spraying an arc of that foul liquid. “This is my world, Scarlett. Don’t tell me what I’m like. You never knew me at all.”