Something’s changed since Crow called. Tristan has an edge about him that didn’t exist this morning. He was softer before. When he looked into my eyes, I felt like he was really seeing me and I was seeing him.

Now, after one conversation with someone from his old life, he seems hurtled back into it. He tries to play at being normal with me, but I’m beginning to know him better. I can decode the absent touches. The distracted way he engages when we talk, like he’s somewhere else.

“Any word yet?”

It’s almost midnight. He’s lying on the couch with his computer on his lap. He clicks around the track pad a few times. “Not yet.”

I can’t see his screen but trust that Jay still hasn’t reached out.

I’m curled up on the opposite couch, scrolling through my phone. The waiting game is killing me. So I decide to search for the password he told me earlier. The results return a nineteenth-century poem written by John McCrae.

Breaking the silence, I read it aloud, drawing Tristan’s attention to me once more.

I stop before the next stanza because what I’m reading is gradually tearing me apart. Haunted visions of the fallen take up space in my thoughts. Soldiers brought to battlegrounds to fight wars they didn’t ask for. Tristan was one of those soldiers once.

“Keep reading,” he says quietly.

So I do.

A long silence stretches between us. I reread the words, new meaning resonating each time I do.

“A field of red poppies is one of the things I remembered from my old life,” he finally says. “Blood red, as far as the eye could see. In the nightmares—dreams, whatever—it’s the last thing I see before I die.”

“But you didn’t die.”

“I should have.” He breaks eye contact and stares up at the ceiling. “Anyway, I used to read a lot right before Jay started keeping me busy. Stumbled across that poem and it stuck with me, I guess.”

“I can see why.”

He refocuses on his computer, and I stare out the window at the city lights twinkling. Several minutes pass before his voice cuts through the silence.

“It’s done.”

Tristan closes his laptop and sets it aside, straightening as he does.

I blink a few times until I catch his meaning.

“She gave you a name? Who is it?”

“Devon Aguilera.”

It’s late afternoon before I step out of the nearest Krav Maga center and onto the busy sidewalk. I head toward the apartment several blocks away, thoroughly wiped out but driven by purpose I didn’t have before. Because now we have a name.

Going up against the Company this way is intimidating but undeniably thrilling. My adrenaline hasn’t stopped pumping since Tristan got the message last night.

Devon Aguilera is an associate professor at Florida State University who’s been causing enough trouble for someone to want her dead. Jay made a specific request when she sent the file on Aguilera. Her death is to be made to seem accidental, which means a homicide will have too many people finger pointing, likely in the right direction. For this reason, I’m confident Jay’s supplied us with a prime lead. Someone who likely already knows her enemies and can lead us right to them.

Tristan has one week to show results before she’ll give him his next job. Little does she know, he’ll never get that far.

I’m near the apartment, ready to pack up and hit the road with Tristan as soon as we can, when I stop in my tracks.

An old man is leaning against the building. He’s short in stature, slender and unassuming except for the dark suit he’s dressed in. When he glances up, his dark eyes brighten. “Isabel.”

I’m momentarily speechless as my mouth falls open. “Papa!”

My grandfather comes to me and pulls me into a tight embrace, sighing as he does. He whispers my name once more and cups his hand at the back of my head like he did when I was a little girl.

“What are you doing here?”

He finally releases me, his eyes shining with emotion. “I came back for your funeral, Isabel. And to speak with your mother. She’s worried for you.” His silver brows furrow.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” I say, not really believing my own words. “I told her I was fine.”

I curse myself for not calling her sooner. Unsure how to explain the shift in plans that brought us to New York, I only sent her a brief message that I was in the city and would call soon.

“She was trying to give you space to start fresh. But she’s worried about this man you’re with.”

I glance across the street to a café. Taking him up to the apartment to meet Tristan may not be the best choice right now. “Do you want to get some coffee?”

“All right,” he says and then follows me across.

There we snag a little table that’s set uncomfortably close to others but will have to do. Everyone seems too absorbed in their own conversations or devices to bother with us.

“I’m safe with Tristan, Papa. You don’t need to worry about that,” I finally say.

“I tried to reassure Lucia. Perhaps it takes a dangerous man to protect you from dangerous people.”

“He is, and he does.”

He nods, but his expression is tight with concern. “I think she’s also worried about driving you closer to him when it’s not meant to be.”

As I consider his words, an unwelcome thought presents itself—the possibility that my mother too had encouraged Tristan’s enlistment plans without my knowing. I sigh and rub my temples. It’s too much of a betrayal to wrap my head around right now when nothing can take me off my current course—one that involves Tristan and ends with him being in my life indefinitely.

“So she tracked my phone and sent you here instead, hoping to reason with me?”

His eyes soften. “You’ve been given a new life. A chance to start over. The path is yours, Isabel. I came because I haven’t seen you.”

My shoulders relax. “I’m glad you did. I’m sorry.”

The barista calls out an order loudly, and the door to the street opens with a jingling sound. No one here has any idea what I’ve been through. That on paper, I’m a dead woman.

“How did you do it, Papa? How did you fake my death?”

He takes my hands, holds them between his, smooth and wrinkled with age. “I will do anything for my family. I would give my life for yours. I would have given it for Mariana’s in a heartbeat if I’d been given the chance.”

Sadness sweeps between us. The faintest memories of Mariana are tainted with what I know about her death now. Without a doubt, I’ve inherited the grudge he and my mother have been holding on to for years.

“You heard about Vince Boswell?”

“Martine told us what happened. Sadly, he’s not the worst of them.”

I flinch involuntarily, haunted by visions of what went down in the hotel room in New Orleans only days ago. “That’s hard to imagine.”

“It takes a diabolical man to raise his children to act as they have.”

“Vince’s father?”

“Kristopher. I worked closely with him. He was the one who insisted I skew my research so it would pass the regulatory tests. Once I saw the depth of his greed—really understood how little concern he had for the welfare of others—I knew I had to come out against him publicly. I couldn’t stomach that the work I’d done to help people could be used to hurt them. He cared only about the momentum he could gain and stopping any impediments to growing the company as large as he possibly could.” He’s quiet a moment. “He’s won. Their wealth, their reach… It’s everything he wanted. We’ve done so little to slow their progress. The inevitable, it would seem.”

I squeeze his hand in mine. “Papa, no.” But I fear he’s right. Whatever my mother and Martine have done to handicap their growth hasn’t been enough.

“It’s all right. The way I grew up, and your mother too, we understood fear and also the power of resistance and fighting back. But this war with their family…” He shoots me a hollow stare, his voice broken with defeat as he speaks again. “I’m so sorry, Isabel. For everything this has brought upon you. Of all people, you’re the least deserving of their malice. And yet, that’s how they strike. They knew exactly where to hurt us, and over the years, we’ve become complacent.”

So complacent that Tristan was sent to kill me.

“You’re certain about Mariana? They definitely knew what they were doing?”

Papa’s lips thin. “We haven’t been on this journey without certain cause, I promise you. We’ve fought long and hard for justice for Mariana, but the time’s come to admit defeat. Protecting what we have left is more important than anything else right now.”

I don’t know what to say. Because I still have fight in me. In fact, nothing but blind determination to take down the Company and people behind it have fueled my thoughts for days. This same fire has been burning in my mother and grandfather for years, yet I’m not sure I’m as capable of giving up as they seem to be.

“Tristan… What kind of man is he?”

I’m not sure how to describe Tristan, especially if my parents have already poisoned Papa with their own opinions.

“He’s…”

Broken. Scarred. Dangerous.

Mine.

I manage a small smile and meet Papa’s eyes. “He’s the only reason I’m alive right now.”

“I’d welcome the chance to thank him one day.”

I nod but don’t reply. The prospect of introducing him to Tristan feels oddly like worlds colliding, especially if my parents are still eager to drive us apart. That realization triggers my need to protect what Tristan and I have at any cost. For now, my grandfather’s world is theirs. He belongs to a life I had to leave behind. Ironically he’s had a big hand in that coming to pass.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “Today doesn’t have to be that day. I plan to stay in the States for a little while. I have business with Martine that needs attention.”

“If you’re ready to let things go with the Boswells, what’s left to work out with Martine?”

“Mariana’s been gone for over twenty years. We’ve been helping each other ever since. Halo’s mission has been far-reaching, well beyond the misdeeds of Kristopher and his heirs.”

I think back to the day Martine welcomed me into Halo and her speech about illuminating the truth and shining light on those who would do us harm. I remember how her words comforted me then, even as I questioned how she carried out her mission.

“She told me as much. But she’s been vague. I guess I didn’t stay long enough to truly understand what it is that Halo does.”

Papa hesitates, as if he’s contemplating whether to tell me more. He frowns a little. “Will you go back?”

I shrug. “I’ve thought of it. We have to take care of some other things first.”

“What kinds of things?”

I chew the inside of my lip. The new plan is exciting but dangerous enough that anyone who truly cares for me would worry for my well-being. Still, Papa has come all this way, and he doesn’t seem to be a stranger to risk.

“We’re trying to get more information on the people Tristan used to work for. It hasn’t exactly been a clean break.”

“Information is something we could help with.”

I consider his offer. The web of information Skye claims Halo is banking is something I’ve thought of since Aguilera’s name came up. But Martine’s the last person Tristan would go to for help after what I went through with Vince. He doesn’t need to say it. I can see the rage burning in his eyes every time he lingers on the bruises that I can finally hide with a little makeup. He’d never tolerate something like that again.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Papa. Thank you.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that. I’m not opposed to help, but I think Tristan wants to fight this battle on his own. The things that happened with Vince broke his faith with Halo, I’m afraid.”

“You were hurt.” Pain flashes behind his eyes like a parent who feels every pang of a child’s suffering.

“I’m fine now. But he saw everything. He doesn’t forgive easily.”

He exhales a sigh. “Martine shouldn’t have used you as a pawn. She takes risks…” He shakes his head, glancing away for a moment. “If I’m telling the truth, sometimes I don’t entirely trust her. Tristan might be wise not to either.”

Isabel wants to leave as soon as possible, but something has me tethered here. Uncertainty about Crow’s plan. Uncertainty about Jay and the job. I’ve been watching the scales tip back and forth in my head, trying to figure out what and whose interests have the most weight.

Is the job a ploy to take another shot at me? Devon Aguilera could be a decoy for all I know. Who knows how badly Jay wants to reel me in—to kill me or teach me a memorable lesson so I never stray from the Company again. I have no idea. The job could be perfectly legitimate too. My gut tells me it is. The only way I can game-plan is to know more, and it’s up to Crow to set it all in motion.

Until he does, Isabel and I can’t take off in any direction.

I look at the time on my phone. I was supposed to meet Jay outside Philadelphia at an inconspicuous but well-frequented diner hours ago. Unbeknownst to Isabel, when I accepted the Aguilera job, I did it on the condition that I get a meeting first. To clear the air and reestablish trust that had been broken—as if trust could ever exist between us. Regardless of whether she bought it or not, if Jay wanted to snag me, now would have been her chance, except I’ll never show. How Crow planned to intercept her, I’m not sure. I just hope he did it right.

I should wait for an update, but I’m sick of the waiting game. Plus, Isabel will be back soon, and I have no idea how I’m going to explain all this to her, if I do at all. So I call him. He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey,” he answers brusquely.

“How’s it going?”

“I have her.”

I enjoy the briefest hit of relief. It’s quickly diminished because Crow doesn’t sound like his usual jovial self.

“And?”

“She’s not talking. And trust me, I know how to get people to talk.”

I curl my hand over the edge of the counter. “Are you sure she knows—”

“She fucking knows! Don’t you, sweetheart?”

The rough sounds of footsteps. A woman’s anguished cry.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I don’t know why I care. I don’t care. Crow should kill her and be done with it. Do what I couldn’t do. Cut the most critical tie that’s bound me to this sick life for too long.

“Why don’t you tell Red what you told me? You want to tell him how you don’t know anything? You think he’ll buy it?”

“Tristan.” Her voice is garbled and distant.

The voice in my head is screaming at me not to feel the things I do. Everything inside me wants to hang up and forget this happened. But he has her now. He’s set things in motion.

There’s commotion on the other end of the phone. Crow’s voice, low and angry but indistinguishable. A punctuated shriek. Then a moment later, a slammed door and Crow’s labored breathing.

“Crow. What the hell is going on? Where are you?”

He cusses under his breath. I can hear other voices in the background. Laughing and hollering. No doubt others in his crew who don’t understand the danger everyone’s in.

“Crow,” I press.

“You fuck her or something?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what she just said to me? Said she’ll talk to you. No one else.” He lets out a caustic laugh. “I’m just surprised because I’m not exactly making her comfortable right now. You must have really made an impression on her.”

I should leave this on his lap. Let him test Jay’s resolve until she gives in. But this is my mess as much as it’s his now. I gave him the go-ahead, and his best efforts aren’t getting the job done. He can’t see it through. Deep down, I know he can’t. Not without my help.

“Fine. Send me the location.”

“Come alone,” he says.

“Obviously.” I hang up and wait a few seconds for the next text to come through. A pin about thirty miles southeast of Philadelphia city limits. I zoom in and see nothing but empty fields around the pin.

The door squeaks open and Isabel comes in, interrupting my cycling thoughts. She’s dressed in her workout clothes, but something about her countenance seems off. Serious, even.

“Everything okay? You were gone a while.”

She drops her wallet onto the counter. “I ran into someone.”

My heart stops. “Who?”

“My grandfather, Gabriel. He came to DC for the funeral and decided to come up to see me.”

I pause. “How did he find you?”

“My mom gave me a phone before I left DC. I guess you’re both on the same plan with keeping tabs on me.”

“Fuck,” I mutter.

Wasting no time, I move to the bedroom and riffle through her things until I find the device. I rip the battery out and smash it on the bureau.

When I turn, she’s there.

She crosses her arms. “Was that really necessary?”

“Anyone knowing exactly where we are is a potential problem. You could have told me about that, you know.”

“Sorry. It wasn’t top of mind with everything we’ve been dealing with. It’s not like my mother’s trying to kill me.”

I ignore her comment and grab my bag. I put it on the bed and toss out the Glock and a couple of magazines for Isabel to keep. The rest will come with me.

“What’s that for?”

Her earlier sarcasm has melted away, replaced by fear I wish I never had to witness in her again.

“I have to run an errand,” I say, knowing it won’t satisfy her.

“An errand? What kind of errand?”

I shake my head. “Don’t ask me questions.”

Her fear morphs into indignation, her eyes wide with it. “Don’t ask you questions? What about being honest with each other? Being on the same team?”

She’ll never accept evasion, so I come out with it. I straighten and level my gaze to hers.

“Crow kidnapped Jay. He’s holding her at some remote hideout outside Philadelphia. She won’t talk to him, and he’s not exactly going easy on her. It’s time for me to step in.”

Her jaw falls. “Oh.”

“I can be there in a couple hours. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get information on Aguilera while I’m there.”

“No. You’re taking me with you.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Isabel. Please. Let’s not do this.”

She doesn’t answer. Only starts moving around the room and packing her things.

“I’m not bringing you into this,” I say firmly.

She doesn’t slow down. “You already have.”

“Not like this. Crow is…” Dangerous. Ruthless. Not that different from me. “I’m not introducing you to him and his goons, okay? I know you think you’re tough now, but—”

“Go to hell, Tristan.” She shoots me a narrow-eyed look.

“I’m confident that’s where I’m headed if it makes you feel any better.”

She flies around the apartment like a woman on a mission, my panic at her determination climbing with every passing second. I catch her coming back from the living room with some clothes and haul her against me. Her breath rushes out, and I don’t give her any room to budge.

“You’re not listening to me.”

She sets her jaw, determination gleaming in her eyes. “Maybe you’re the one who’s not listening.”

“I’m not going to bring you into a dangerous situation for no other reason than to keep us together. I’ll be back—”

“I’m not letting you leave me behind. You don’t want to take me right into the thick of it, okay. I get it. I’m scared too. But I can be close. Maybe you can drop me at a hotel nearby or something. Talk to Jay, and when you’re done, we’ll be that much closer to our next stop.”

Some of the demand has slipped from her tone. She’s trying to be reasonable, and I’m having a hard time holding my ground. Especially when she’s this close. Because like every other time we’ve had to go our separate ways, by circumstance or one of us deciding to go it alone, I’ve hated every minute of it. Deep down I knew it was wrong even if my sense of logic argued it was right.

I consider her proposal and decide it’s reasonable enough. Even if it weren’t, we don’t have time to argue. The clock is ticking. If Crow can’t get what he wants, all we’ve done is make targets of both of us. The whole Company will be looking for us. And Isabel.