The next few days, anxiety and uncertainty follow me everywhere I go. They breathe down my neck as I try to read a book. They wrap themselves around me as I try to eat, smothering me. They’re everywhere, dogging every single step I take.

The question that’s at the forefront of my mind is simple: do I take Tony’s crazy plan to heart, consequences be damned? Or, do I tell Monster everything and let him save me?

I can’t seem to make up my mind. So, the nervousness and doubt are my constant companions, for far longer than Tony said. I wait with bated breath, not knowing when and if my brother is going to make his move.

The whole time, I’m running the scenarios and the probable outcomes through my head. I imagine that I didn’t tell Monster. That I just let Tony rob and kill the man who has been my captor these long weeks. That we are successful, fleeing to Vegas just as Tony plans to do.

I shudder as I think of what my brother has planned for the two of us, assuming that he doesn’t get sidetracked here in New Orleans and shoot up. What he said, the other night, about how we can be together?

It makes my skin crawl.

Then I imagine that I tell Monster about Tony’s plan. I imagine that he will be ready for Tony to make a move, that he’ll block Tony’s murderous escape plan. And probably have a murderous plan of his own.

I imagine what life would be like, living here in this house, sleeping with the man that killed my family. I don’t know about the rest of my family for sure, but I’ll know he killed Tony. Essentially, I would be resigning myself to being Monster’s plaything forever.

I don’t know if I can live with that, either.

Trying to imagine something halfway between the two is hard. Maybe I don’t tell Monster, but he kills Tony. Or maybe I do tell him, and he decides to let me go as a thank you.

Those ideas are very appealing, but also not very likely.

Tony behaves as though nothing happened, mostly keeping to himself. A couple of times, I try to signal to him, try to find out what the hell is going on. After all, he said that his plan would unfold the day he talked to me or the next day.

Now it’s been two days more. And of course, he doesn’t feel like letting me know what the deal is. Every time I signal him, he acts like he doesn’t understand what I’m hinting at.

It’s late when Tony finally comes to me where I’m curled up on the couch, looking around suspiciously. All the lights are dimmed, and most of the household is quiet and still.

“Hey,” he says, his gaze sliding all around the living room. “Do you want to show me those, uh, things? In your room?”

My brow pulls together. I put down my book. “What?”

He grabs me by the arm, hauling me up. “Show me that thing you’ve been working on. Now, in your room.”

He gives me a little push toward the stairs, and I realize that this must be it. Tony must have decided to set the wheels of his plan into motion. My heart hammers in my chest. I start to sweat in my black silk dress, even though I was thinking only a minute ago that I was cold enough for a change of clothes.

I climb the stairs, my heart in my throat. Leading the way into my room, I close the door after Tony comes in.

“Is it now?” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself.

“Yep,” Tony says, a smile forming on his face. “I know you thought I was going to wuss out, but I’m ready.”

I’ve thought a lot of things over the last few days, but Tony wussing out was honestly not among them. The battle between Tony and Monster over who is the worse influence over me still rages.

The brother who sold me into slavery and who expects me to commit incest with him? Or the psychopathic drug lord he sold me to? I chew on my lower lip, still undecided.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Tony says, glancing out my window. “The heroin delivery got made a few hours ago. It’s in the servants’ lounge, in a duffel bag.”

I crook a brow. “There is a servants’ lounge??”

“Yeah.” He looks at me funny. “Maybe you’re too fancy to have checked out the servants’ rooms, but there is a lounge there.”

I shrug, too overwhelmed with everything that’s going on to worry that much about the servants’ part of the house. “Okay.”

Tony looks annoyed. “We’re going to sneak down there and get the package. Then we wait for your boyfriend to come home. I’ve been watching, and he usually comes in alone. We blow him away, then make a run for it.”

Apprehension claws at my throat and my chest. “What if—”

He cuts me off. “It’s my plan. You think you’re so smart, but you didn’t get the gun. You didn’t find the shipping invoices. It’s my time to shine, Kit Kat.”

Closing my mouth, I frown. Tony hikes up his pants and adjusts the gun in his waistband.

“Come on. Let’s go,” he says, jerking his head. “You first.”

“Wait, what about Cerberus?” I say.

“Who?”

“My puppy. He’s been away, being trained.”

My brother scowls at me. “What the fuck are you even saying right now? It’s just a damned dog. Now get a move on.”

The idea of never seeing that black mop of wiry curls again is crushing to my soul. My eyes water a little as I lead the way down the stairs. I stop when I’m in the living room once again, looking to Tony for instructions.

He nods toward the back of the house. I head that way, listening as I go, for the sounds of a housekeeper or the chef approaching. It’s silent, though. And very dark. It’s quiet enough that I can hear my heartbeat thrumming in my veins.

I start to sweat again, my palms damp and clammy. I open a door, which leads into an inky hallway. Tony points at a door that is down and on the right. Hands shaking, I hurry to open that door.

Inside, it’s every bit as dark. I can make out some furniture around me, chairs and couches. Feeling my way around, bumping into things, I’m blind as a bat. I feel Tony right behind me, closing the door with a snick.

He flips on the light, illuminating the room. I wince as I look around, unsure. Not Tony, though. He moves swiftly to a duffel bag, sitting on a chair.

Something about that strikes me as odd. The bag is awfully easy to steal. Why keep it in such a place? Why not just have one of the bodyguards hold on to it for safe keeping?

Tony has no such qualms. He unzips the bag, lifting out a plastic-wrapped package of what I assume must be heroin. He sniffs it as if trying to verify its worth that way. Then he grins, turning to me.

He mouths something to me that I can’t quite catch. I don’t mind; I get the general gist which is that the heroin is real. So far, this plan is going off without a hitch.

So, why is my brain telling me that there is something wrong here? Aside from the obvious worries, I feel like there is a little extra layer of concern sticking with me. I should be able to separate the two more easily, but it’s impossible.

All I’m left with is just a feeling of unease.

I gesture to Tony, tiptoeing close so that I can whisper in his ear. “Something isn’t right here. I can feel it.”

He shakes his head vehemently and puts a finger to his lips. Slipping the package back in the duffel bag, he shoulders it and flips off the lights. He pulls the gun from his waistband, gesturing me to head out the door.

The sight of the gun makes me sweat even more. I silently open the door, sneaking across the hall. Giant alarm bells are going off in my head.

This is too easy.

Monster wouldn’t make stealing from him and running away so simple.

We should’ve planned more. We should’ve talked it through.

And then there is the same thing I think whenever I look at my brother now.

How can I trust him ever again?

As we head back into the living room, I begin shaking so hard that it’s noticeable even to Tony. He glares at me, bringing his finger to his lips once again. But it’s not like I’m trying to make noise.

I’m scared. Everything about this situation scares me.

Honestly, if Tony didn’t have that gun… if I wasn’t sure that he would use it on me…

I would retreat to my bedroom and hide out until Monster had dealt with Tony. Or vice versa, I guess.

Turning to Tony, I raise my brows in a now what? expression.

He points to the couch, indicating that he wants me to sit there. I hesitate.

I don’t want to play a part in trapping Monster. I really don’t. I just want to be free.

I guess I must have hesitated a second too long, because Tony storms over to me, cold-cocking me right on the temple with the butt of the gun. Pain bursts outward from the spot where he hit me. The world seems to take on a weird pale blue tinge. I feel myself sagging.

Time seems to slow down.

Everything flickers for a few seconds.

The world is hazy, shapes turn into blobs. I’m aware, but also, I’m not sure I’m conscious. It’s sort of impossible to tell.

When I come to, I realize that I missed something. Something big.

Right in front of me, Monster tackles Tony to the ground. They are growling things at each other, but I’m too woozy for any of it to make sense.

Tony waves his gun at Monster. Monster knocks it out of his hand, onto the floor at my feet.

For a second, I blink at it.

A distant voice whisper to me. Pick it up.

I scrunch up my face as Monster and Tony continue to struggle. My hearing isn’t right; I just hear one high, single note, far away.

The voice comes again. PICK IT UP!!

I slide forward, managing to get on my feet. I make a grab for the gun, but it takes a few tries. My depth perception is way off, but I manage to wrap my fingers around the cold metal.

The men notice me, Monster rolling off of Tony.

He shouts at me. Tony shout at me too, his mouth moving.

I snicker because it’s a little bit funny that they apparently suddenly have so much to say.

Raising the gun, I take aim.

Who am I aiming for again?

Monster, who terrorizes me and holds me captive?

Or Tony, who sold me into slavery?

Closing one eye, taking aim again, I shoot.