Everyone has that one off relative. Mine is a second cousin on my dad’s side. Edith Wilkes. Terminally awkward, colorblind, agoraphobic—we were all surprised when she showed up for Paul’s funeral. After, she waited in line with everyone else to offer her condolences. When it was her turn, Paris gripped my hand so tightly it hurt, preparing me for whatever craziness was about to come out of Edith’s mouth.

Edith looked me in the eye and said gravely, “Until you’re broken, you don’t know what you’re made of.” Without waiting for a response, she walked away, her frizzy blond hair foaming in the wind. She didn’t come to the wake.

Now, I have the vague wish I could have spoken longer with her. Because surely someone doesn’t say something like that to a widow without personal experience in breaking.

I thought I was broken then.

I knew nothing.

“Say something, London. Are you okay? I thought you were dead. What did he do to you?”

We’re sitting on opposite sides of the cell. He talks to me—I don’t respond. I’ve never been more certain of anything than I am now that nothing is as it seems. Either my mind is truly gone, shattered, and I’m having a hallucination, or Paul’s death was staged and this ruse is the final play in Rudy’s twisted game.

Perhaps if I’d never met Dominic… if he hadn’t blasted through all my darkness and brought me into the light… if I hadn’t learned there is salvation in surrender, forgiveness in regret, and a future in the present… Perhaps then I’d be desperate enough to believe the man in front of me.

“Why won’t you look at me?” His tone is full of sorrow and confusion. “For two years, London, two years I’ve been in a windowless cell. Thinking you were dead. Losing my damned mind. Please, talk to me!”

The agony in the last words breach my numbness. I focus on a spot directly above his head. “They identified you by your teeth.”

He drags in a swift breath. “I know, or I guessed. I’m missing a few.”

“I saw you in the car. You were in the driver’s seat when it exploded.”

“I don’t know who you saw, but it wasn’t me. The last thing I remember is arguing with you about Felix. Then I woke up in a room just like this one with missing teeth and no idea how I got there.”

Ventilation kicks on, stale air circulating between us. Slowly, I lower my gaze to his face. I don’t know how I could have mistaken him for Dominic. His hair is lighter, his frame leaner, his skin pale.

“When did you find out Rudy was doing business with the Russian mob?” I ask the stranger. “Better yet, when did you sell your soul to the devil?”

Because I’m looking, I see it. His tell. The skin beneath his eyes pinches. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t know about the Russians until Rudy told me a few months ago. He’s been trying to convince me to work for him, tells me about his business, the drugs and trafficking. He’s batshit crazy, London. I honestly don’t know why he hasn’t killed me yet.”

My head thuds against the wall. Hindsight is a shifty bitch, changing her story one day to the next. Casting new shadows, removing old ones.

“Just before Christmas, you started acting distant. Angrier.” I’m back to staring at the wall above his head. “I chalked it up to work stress coupled with the usual holiday stress. Or my distraction with the story I was working on. I also considered that you intuitively knew I was keeping something from you. I felt guilty about that. Ashamed. But it wasn’t any of those things, was it?”

“London—”

“You were so distraught when I told you about the story, that the women I interviewed were dead.” I look him in the eye. “Did you know it was Rudy who had them killed? Rudy and Ivan? Or did you kill them yourself, not knowing I was connected?”

“Christ, London, you’re not making sense. This is crazy! I was upset because you’d been lying for months about what you were working on, and because you were shitting on my investigation! I was angry and scared for you, and lost my shit. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, but I’m here now. I need you to trust me. We have to figure out a way to get out of here!”

“How?” I snap. “How in hell do you think we can do that?”

His eyes soften, the hazel depths so achingly familiar and not. Like having déjà vu when meeting a person for the first time.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it,” he says softly, eagerly. He leans forward, almost vibrating with urgency. “He’s kept us both alive for a reason. We exploit it. Agree to whatever scheme he proposes, do whatever we have to do to get out of this fucking prison. Once we’re on the outside, we can escape. Go straight to the FBI. We’ll take him down. Together.”

He has thought about it.

It’s a perfectly sensible plan.

If only…

Blinking back tears, I smile tightly. “You’re forgetting one thing, Paul. I always beat you at poker. Always.”

There’s a heavy beat of silence, broken by his sigh. “Damnit, London,” he murmurs, gaze shifting to the door just as it opens.

Rudy walks in clapping.

Clap.

Clap.

“Bravo, London,” he says, affectionate tone at odds with his grim expression. He glances at Paul. “You did your best, now go get cleaned up.”

Paul lurches to his feet. “Rudy, please, maybe—”

“No. She’s beyond our reach. And frankly, Paul, I’m disappointed that even knowing what she’s been doing the last six months, you’d still want her.”

Paul frowns but says nothing. He pauses at the door and looks at me. For a moment, I see the young man I fell in love with. “I’m sorry, London. Truly.”

He leaves.

Again.

Only this time, he doesn’t take any part of me with him.

“Fuck you, Rudy. I told you once before, and I’ll tell you again. Just.Fucking.Kill.Me.”

He sighs. “Once again, you’ve proved yourself my life’s greatest disappointment. But I won’t kill you. Call me sentimental, but I care too much for you. Besides, killing you now would rob me of an asset of incredible value. Do you know how much someone like you goes for on the open market? Millions.”

Terror ices my veins. “What?” I rasp.

Rudy smiles benignly. “Don’t worry. The average life expectancy of a sex slave is relatively brief. Go easily, and you have my word that your parents, sister, and adorable niece will live out the rest of their lives in peace.”

The door closes before I’ve fully absorbed his words. When I do, I scream.

Scream.

And scream.