I climbed down from Cooper's tall SUV, going through his instructions in my head as I walked calmly to the beige sedan and climbed behind the wheel. I counted slowly, hearing the SUV pull back into the street and drive away.

I reached one hundred and turned the key, my heart pounding but my hands steady.

The engine turned over smoothly, and I drove down the street. Exactly as Cooper had said, number fifteen eighty-two was on my right, an abandoned garage, the bays closed, the front windows papered over, weeds growing through the cracks in the parking lot.

I parked the sedan and left it unlocked, gripping the keys tightly in my hand. Knowing I was being watched, I straightened my spine and marched to the front door.

It helped knowing that Cooper's men were somewhere nearby. That Gage might already be in position. A car passed on the street behind me, reminding me that while the area wasn't heavily trafficked, neither was it deserted. Anthony would want me inside the garage. Maybe I could use that to get Amelia out.

I knocked on the door. No answer. I pushed the heavy glass door open and propped it with my foot, keeping the other foot outside, squinting into the dimly lit room. With the glass door and front windows papered over, the only light came from the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling and the small, square window high on the back wall. Amelia sat duct taped to a folding chair in the center of the room.

Anthony stood a few feet behind her, pointing a gun at the back of her head. When she saw me, Amelia's expression shifted from scared to irritated. I was sure that if Anthony hadn’t taped her mouth shut, she would've started yelling at me. As far as I could tell, she was unharmed except for swelling on the side of her cheek.

“Come in, and shut the door,” Anthony commanded. I shook my head.

I held up the car keys and tossed them into the parking lot. They landed with a click of metal on pavement and skidded across the cracked surface, the winter sun catching the grooves and flashing in my eyes. I looked at Anthony and said, “Let her go, and I'll come inside.”

“You come inside, and I'll let her go.”

I couldn't pull off casual. I was too scared, and Anthony could smell fear like a shark could smell blood. I shrugged anyway. Now that I was inside, the layout wasn't exactly like the sketch Cooper’s men had sent him, but it was close enough.

Amelia was just inside target range, and, standing behind her, Anthony was out of sight. If he moved toward me, he'd be right where Gage wanted him.

“I'll let her go when I'm ready,” Anthony said. “Step inside and shut that door or I'll slit her throat right in front of you.”

His free hand slipped into the pocket of his dress pants, and he withdrew something long and black. Pressing a button on the side, a blade snicked up, the metal gleaming in the light from the bulb over Anthony's head. I stepped into the garage and let go of the door.

“I don't understand why you're making this so difficult, Sophie,” he said in his cool, even voice.

He stood there in dark dress pants and a tailored shirt, his shoes immaculate, not a hair out of place, and threatened to kill Amelia right in front of me. How had I been unable to see the monster lurking inside his polished exterior?

Two months he’d courted me, and I'd never realized what he was.

“You don't understand why I’m making this difficult?” I asked. “Are you serious?”

Caution screamed at me to be quiet. Not to aggravate him. Not to set him off. I didn't have a choice. I needed him to come for me, and following his orders wouldn't do the job.

“Sophie,” he said, his voice patient but his eyes hard, “your place is at my side. I need you to come home.”

“We don't have a home. I sold it when you died.”

Anthony waved the knife in dismissal. “Damien wasn't supposed to let you sell the house. He had some idea he'd take over for me. He wanted you out of the way, and he was too squeamish to kill you.”

“What happened to him?” I asked, aware every word we said was being recorded.

“He won't be a problem,” Anthony said.

“Did you kill him?” I asked, pushing harder.

Anthony smiled, a slow widening of his mouth that telegraphed satisfaction and said, “Among other things.”

My stomach rolled with nausea. Time to get us back on track. “I'm not coming home with you. I'm filing for divorce.”

Anthony's eyes narrowed. “You can't divorce me. You're my wife.”

“That's what divorce means,” I explained slowly as if he were a child and not a full-grown man holding a knife in one hand and a gun in the other. “I'm your wife now, and after we divorce, I won't be your wife anymore.”

“I won't allow it,” he said as if that simple statement ended the conversation.

“I don't care,” I said.

I turned and crossed the room, keeping distance between myself and Anthony but trying to draw him away from Amelia. My new position put me too close to Gage’s line of sight, but it worked. Anthony turned away from Amelia and dropped the hand with the gun to his side. He closed the knife and slid it back in his pocket.

“Let Amelia go,” I said.

“No. Someone will find her after we’re gone.”

“I'm not leaving with you.”

“Yes, you are. I have a new house, on the side of a mountain, surrounded by trees. You’ll be safe and protected there. We can be alone, just you and me. I've missed you, Sophie. You don’t know how I’ve missed you.”

“I haven’t missed you,” I said, trying to rattle him enough to make him forget where he was in relation to the back window. Anthony went on as if I hadn’t spoken at all.

“You bring me peace. You can't imagine what it's been like the last two years, staying away from you, pretending I was dead, surrounded by people who didn't care about me. The stress, it was so intense, so much worse without you. I need you. You’re the only one who takes it away. I tried with other women, but none of them were you.”

His voice was wistful, almost sweet. I fought the urge to throw up. I brought him peace because he worked out his stress by beating me half to death.

A rush of anger displaced my nausea, and I heard myself say, “You don't want a wife, you want a punching bag. You want a victim. You’re only happy when you hurt someone weaker than you. I'd say you need help, but you’re beyond help. You’re a monster.”

Anthony's handsome face twisted into a snarl and he took a jerky step closer. Not close enough. I moved my foot back, and the gun swung up.

“Don't run away from me, you little whore.”

I froze in place. He kept the gun aimed at me and went on, his calm façade cracking as his eyes burned with fury. “I'm dead not two years, and already you’re fucking some guy? Letting him touch you, letting him soil you. You were supposed to be clean. Pure. You can't take it all away from me if you're dirty.”

I was getting dizzy trying to follow his twisted logic. It kind of made sense, the way he’d dressed me in those virginal nightgowns, barely touched me sexually, insisted I stay away from men, from people. Isolated and alone, existing only to serve him. I shuddered at the memory and took a step back without thinking.

Anthony's hand jerked to the right, and he squeezed the trigger. Chips of concrete flew off the wall. I heard myself scream.

“I said don't move,” he shouted, spittle flying from his lips. I'd never seen Anthony so unhinged. Even when he was hitting me, he'd always been in control.

“You're ruining everything,” he said, the hand holding the gun shaking, thrusting forward, punctuating every word. “I bought us a house. I have money put aside. So much money. I took it all and then I testified against them. We'll have everything. You just have to come home.”

“I'm not coming home,” I said quietly. “I'm never going anywhere with you again. You can kill me if you have to if that's what it takes to get away from you.”

Anthony went still. The gun dropped to his side. “You love me,” he stated, flatly, as if it were the only truth he knew.

“No. I hate you.”

He looked at me with incomprehension. “I had to do it, sweetheart,” he explained. “It was the only way to get it out of me. And after, I felt so calm. I need that back. I tried with other women, but it didn’t work. Only you take the dark away. Only you can give me peace.”

I fought the urge to tell him he was crazy. Completely, totally, insane. Did he really think I was going to come back to him?

“How many people did you hurt in the last two years?” I asked. I had to know. I wanted to make him say it out loud, to admit what he was. He cocked his head to the side and studied me for a long moment before answering.

Did he know about the wire?

If he did, he’d kill us both.

Finally, he said, “I didn’t hurt anyone, Sophie. It’s never me. It’s the darkness.” His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “Without you, Sophie, the darkness was hungry.”

“Then why did you leave me?” I asked, taking a tiny, sliding step back, drawing Anthony forward, just a little. Caught in memories of the things he’d done, he barely noticed as we shifted a foot in the wrong direction. Then another.

“I thought I could feed it other ways, just for a while,” he said, in that same hoarse whisper. “But it took longer than I planned and it got to be too much.”

“Is that why you left the marshals?” Another small slide back. Almost there.

Anthony gave a dismissive shake of his head, seemingly unaware he’d stepped forward to match my careful retreat. “I got away from the safe house when I needed to. But it wasn’t the same. Those other women, they weren’t you. They couldn’t make it happy. Couldn’t take it away like you did.”

“What did you do to them?” I asked, conversationally, sliding my foot back another step. “The same as you did to me?”

“No, Sophie, no,” he said, tracking me, stepping closer, almost in Gage’s line of sight. His voice was entreating, just short of begging. I’d never heard so much emotion from Anthony. “I’d never touch them like I touched you. They weren’t clean, weren’t pure. They only made the darkness hungrier. It needs you.”

I suppressed a shiver. I had no idea what that meant, but I had a terrible feeling he’d done far worse than beat them with his fists and feet. I didn’t want to hear any more. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t play a game with this monster of a man.

“Do you want me back?” I asked, softly.

Anthony nodded, slowly.

“Then come and get me,” I invited. I held out my hand as if waiting for him to take it.

Anthony carefully placed his gun on the floor and walked toward me, his dark eyes relieved, his face relaxed. Just as his fingertips brushed mine, his body jerked to the side, the sound of a gunshot and breaking glass echoing through the empty room.

He hit the floor and rolled, groaning. I heard a voice shout, “Sophie, get out.”

I ran for Amelia, pulling frantically at the duct tape binding her to the chair. The voice shouted, “Sophie, move. We've got Amelia covered. Clear the room, now.”

I did as I was told, standing and bolting for the door. I heard a shuffle behind me, one shot, then another. A cannonball hit me in the back, and I went down, my shoulder and the side of my head smacking into the concrete floor.

I couldn't get air in my lungs.

I scrabbled at the floor, sweaty palms slipping, my chest heaving for air, my back burning with pain. Feet rushed by me. Shouts echoed against the concrete walls.

Then Gage was there, his hands patting me roughly, yanking up my sweater, tugging at the Velcro of the vest and smoothing over the unbroken skin of my back. He pulled me into his lap, gathering me close, and pressed his forehead to mine.

“Don't you ever fucking do that again, Sophie. Do you hear me? He fucking shot you.”

His arms tightened around me, squeezing out what little breath I’d managed to suck in.

“The vest?” I whispered.

“Did its job,” Gage confirmed, “but you scared the hell out of me. No more confrontations with armed madmen.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Agreed.”

I opened my eyes and peeked over Gage's shoulder to see police officers surrounding a groaning Anthony. In a low voice, Gage said, “He's going to jail for a long time, Angel. He's not going to bother you again.”

I let my eyes slide closed and pressed my face to Gage's chest. “Are you still mad at me?” I asked.

His arms went tight again, and he said with a growl, “I'm fucking pissed at you, Angel. You almost got yourself killed. It's going to take a long time for me to forget him pointing that gun at you.”

I had a feeling it would take me a long time to forget that, too.

“Do you still love me?” I asked, hoping I already knew the answer.

“Always, Angel. Always.”