I hardly know how it happened.

One minute, I was climbing out of Rayne’s SUV and had taken one step toward The Oakes’ front door. And the next minute, I was startled by the sound of screeching tires and I was being dragged into another car that was sweeping out of the parking lot.

Gasping to catch my breath, I look at the two large men sitting on either side of me. “What is this?”

Neither of them acknowledge me, but the driver of the car glances in the rearview mirror.

May panic rises up in my throat, but I swallow it down and raise my voice.

“Hey!” I glare at him. “Who are you people? This is kidnapping!”

He looks back at the road, like I’ve said nothing at all.

Assessing my situation, trying to think around the fearful chaos exploding in my head, I fidget, testing how securely the men beside me will hold me. Can I fight?

“Don’t.” The man driving the car speaks. He has a northern accent, maybe New York or New Jersey, and he shakes his head when his eyes meet mine in the mirror again. “We have instructions. We’re supposed to kill you only if you become a problem.”

My blood chills, and I look down at my hands. Taking a deep breath, I hold my head high again and look out the windows. But it’s nighttime, and the dark tint keeps me from being able to see my surroundings. I have no idea where we’re going, and that scares me most. I left my phone and my purse in Rayne’s car.

I’ve been scared before. Hell, there was a time in my life where fear ruled my days and nights until it was all I could think about. It changed me, ruined me. With a deep breath, I realize that even though I can’t control this situation, I can control my reaction to it.

And I refuse to let anyone make me live in fear again.

“Who am I going to see at the end of this little trip?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel on the inside. “M.J.?”

A snort comes from the man beside me, and I jump because it startles me.

Turning to him with my eyes narrowed, I take him in. Tall, dark features, extremely built beneath his bulky coat and black jeans. Basically, I have no chance of overpowering him, and I’m not stupid enough to try.

“What?” I ask.

“Mick’s the reason you’re coming with us. He’s not smart enough to do what needs to be done, so he’ll learn.”

Oh, no. If I’m not dealing with M.J. when this ride is over, that means…

Panic flares bright and hot. “No!” I lunge for the door handle, encountering a solid wall of muscle before I can move barely an inch. “Let me out!”

The driver chuckles. “Sit tight, sweetheart. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Slumping back against the seat, I try to think of a way out of this. But I know there isn’t one.

When the vehicle rolls to a stop, I’m pulled from the backseat and led into the dark. We’re parked in front of some sort of distribution center. If my biggest fears are true, and I’m dealing with Wilmington’s resident crime family, then this building probably houses holdings for one of the many Margiano businesses. I’m led inside, and after the darkness of the night, the bright fluorescent lighting hurts my eyes.

My three bulky captors and I walk through a warehouse space filled with brown cardboard boxes, stacked in columns on the concrete floor and layered two stories high on metal shelving units. Glancing around me, I can’t tell what’s in the boxes and I know it doesn’t matter.

They lead me to the back of the building, where a long table and benches are set up behind a partition. It looks like a break area for workers, but I haven’t seen any workers yet. Maybe it’s the time of night, but more likely is that the head of the Margiano crime family wanted the place to himself tonight.

Shuddering, I try not to wonder why he wants an audience with me. Not knowing is probably better.

But in reality, I’m about to find out very soon what he wants, and I already know it’s not going to be good.

“Sit,” one of the men says, pushing my shoulder down onto the end of a bench. Wincing in pain, I comply, sitting up straight and folding my hands on the table in front of me. Every single muscle I have is tensed and coiled, ready for fight or flight. Whichever one will serve me best at any given moment.

Two of the men walk away, leaving me with one eagle-eyed guard standing against a shelf a few feet away. He doesn’t look at me, instead keeping his eyes trained at a point behind my shoulder. He seems bored with the whole situation, like this is just another night for him. When for me, my whole world has just been turned upside down.

I close my eyes against the sudden sting of tears. I was seconds away from being in Ronin’s arms. At the thought, my eyes fly back open again.

Ronin! They wouldn’t have hurt him, would they?

Of course they would have. But Ronin was safe inside the bar. I saw his car when I pulled up. He has to be okay.

And if he’s okay, that means Jeremy and Rayne are going to tell him that I left their house, and he’ll be looking for me.

The thought sends warmth running through my veins and straight to my heart. If the NES knows I’m missing, then I probably won’t be missing for long.

But, if Albert Margiano’s message is short and sweet, the fact that the special ops team is searching for me won’t matter at all.

The man against the wall suddenly stands a little bit taller, and the air around me practically sizzles with tension.

“It’s been a long time, Miss Alexander.”

Albert Margiano himself walks into my line of vision and perches on the bench across from me. He has to fold his tall, lean body nearly in half to fit, but once he’s sitting he appears completely at ease. Fit for a man I imagine must be in his sixties by now, his lined face is actually pretty handsome. He carries himself like a man with power, and platinum sparkles in his ear, on his wrist, and against several fingers.

I assess him, working hard to conceal my fear, swallowing around the enormous lump that’s formed in my throat.

The first time I met him was in college when M.J. and I were dating. M.J. had said that his uncle insisted on meeting the girl he chose to spend so much time around, and not knowing exactly who his uncle was, I’d agreed. He was an imposing figure then, and now that I know so much more about him, he’s absolutely terrifying.

“It has.” I remain reserved, cautious. “You could have just asked to see me.”

His expression turns amused. “Oh? And you would have obliged?”

I don’t answer, and he chuckles. “I didn’t think so.”

“What do you want? Is this about the money that M.J. used to pay for my tuition all those years ago? Because I’ll gladly pay that back. We haven’t been in touch for years, or I would have already.”

Margiano waves a hand. “This isn’t about money. Although I realize you’ve made quite a name for yourself with your career in design. It’s about something much more important.”

I stare at him. “What’s more important to you than money?”

His mouth curves into a grin. The sight of it clamps an icy fist of fear around my heart.

“Power. And to remain powerful, every king needs an heir. An heir that places ambition and business above all else. My heir is currently too wrapped up in a woman who doesn’t want him. A woman who gave his name to the police after he stupidly left her flowers.”

I inhale and let the breath out slowly. Focusing on my breaths is difficult, but I try it again. Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Finally, I speak, but my voice is thin, like the air on a mountaintop. “Please. Let me go home.”

Margiano leans forward, his dark eyes now cold and calculating. There’s not a trace of amusement left. The lines of his face that can turn his expression into a smile are now almost cruel. There’s a reason this man is feared by the darkest, filthiest people in the city.

“I can’t do that.” The words are like napalm, inciting my heartbeat to catch fire.

“Yes, you can, Uncle.” M.J. strolls onto the scene, his tone calm but his eyes angry. “Olive isn’t yours to command. She belongs to me.”