Shopping bags weigh down my shoulders as I descend the stairs to the metro. Melanie, also bogged with wildly swinging bags, follows me.

“Thanks for coming with me.” I sigh as the white strings of shopping bags slacken around my shoulders as I slide into a plastic seat. Melanie gives me a similar look of relief as she sits down, the shopping bags crowded around our legs.

“No problem. It’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to having the same experience.” She gives me a kind of a sad smile as I look at her. “Tommy’s not really the fatherly type.”

Thinking of Tony, I smile. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.”

I shoot off a quick text to him, telling him that I’m heading home just as the subway lurches forward. My phone buzzes and I read his response:

Dinner better be fucking ready when I get back home.

I snort to myself when I read that. He’s joking, right?

It’ll be ready when it’s ready. We just got done shopping.

The message comes back frighteningly quickly, as if he’s watching the screen, just waiting for me to reply.

You’ll have it ready when I get home or you’ll get my hand across your face. Or a belt.

The hostility in the message runs right through me like a sword. What the hell is with him? Cold horror ripples through my stomach and I don’t hear the roar of the subway, or Melanie’s chatter in my ear.

Then another text pops up on the screen:

It’s your choice.

They’re the same words Rafael used to hiss in my ear.

Oh God. No, please don’t let that mean what I think it does.

The phone clatters to the floor.

Dimly I hear Melanie’s reproving yell. “Elena!” When I make no move, Melanie picks it up for me. “What’s wrong?”

He fucking got him. He has Tony. Why else would Rafael’s voice come out of Tony’s phone?

“Oh my God.”

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” Melanie’s whitened face turns toward me.

Panic spikes my heart as a horrible image of Tony’s bloodied body flashes in front of my eyes. No, I can’t lose him. I cannot fucking lose him!

“We have to hurry—I have to go home, now!”

“We’re on our way,” she says in a bewildered tone. “Will you tell me what the hell’s going on?”

I look at the subway map, the French names blurring as tears spill from my eyes. Three stops. Three fucking stops.

“Something happened to Tony.”

“What? I didn’t see—” she looks at my phone and reads the texts, biting her lip. “I—don’t see anything suspicious—”

“It’s the sort of thing my ex would say. He has Tony’s phone, which means that—” I can’t bear to finish the sentence, but my voice chokes off in a sob.

He’s probably dead.

“Whoa, don’t you think you might be overreacting?”

I stare at her as impatient rage fumes in my chest. “No, I’m not! I know my ex and I know Tony—this isn’t the way he talks to me.”

I stand up as the door hisses open to my stop, but Melanie grabs my arm and forces me down.

She flinches when I glare at her. “What the hell are you doing?”

“We’re not going to your apartment!”

People filter out of the car as I struggle with her. “Let go of me!” I snatch my arm from her grip.

“Listen to me. If you’re right—”

My voice rises in a snarl. “I know I’m right.”

Her hand reaches out and closes over my wrist, her fingers biting me. “Then he could be waiting for you there. It’s too dangerous.”

She’s right. I don’t stand a chance against my ex. He’s probably just hoping I’ll take the bait and run back home.

The door hisses shut and for some reason the image of a coffin lid closing for the last time burns in my head. A wave of crushing despair slams into my shoulders from above, like a heavy weight. My knees strike the ground. The car echoes with my sobs as passengers give me concerned looks.

Melanie’s gentle hand falls on my head. “Hey, you don’t know what happened. It could be a prank or—or something.”

My eyes burn as I stare at the phone screen, the words bleeding as my eyes well up. I know exactly what happened. That bastard found Tony and probably took him by surprise, and by now he’s probably—he’s gone. Thrown in a ditch somewhere or buried. Jesus—the pain in my heart feels as if it’s going to kill me.

No, I can’t accept that. I sit and gulp down air as my lungs contract. Melanie grips my shoulder hard and whispers in my ear all the bullshit that she thinks will help me feel better.

“We’ll find Tony. Tommy might know something.”

Melanie gets on the phone with her boyfriend as I shake in the seat, staring ahead but not really seeing anything. The phone is hot in my hand, and a wave of nausea overcomes me when I look at it. It’s contaminated. It’s an extension of the man who did nothing but abuse me for months, and now he’s extinguished the only light in my life.

Fucking hell, get a grip on yourself.

Trembling a bit on my feet, I walk out of the car with Melanie fast on my heels. Shopping bags bounce against my legs as I hurtle up the stairs. A silver Mercedes rolls against the curb and Tommy’s anxious head leans toward the window.

“Get in.”

Melanie opens the trunk while I shove the bags inside and then I climb in the backseat as Melanie joins him in the front.

“Tommy—have you heard from Tony?”

He gazes at me from the rear-view mirror. “No, sorry.”

“We need to find him. I think Rafael might have—” the breath hitches in my throat and I swallow hard, clearing it, “might have done something to him.”

Tommy’s eyes widen as he pulls from the curb and drives us away. “What makes you say that?”

Melanie gives me an anxious look as I pull up the text messages. “The texts he sent me are not from Tony, they’re from Rafael.”

It boils my blood to see him raise his eyebrows as though I’m being overdramatic. We stop at a light and he seizes the phone, scrolling through them. Then he shrugs.

My heart sinks.

“I don’t see what’s the big deal—”

“Tony would not talk to me like that!” I snarl at him.

“Actually, Elena, I’ve known him for longer than you have. This doesn’t really surprise me.”

My nails dig into my palms as he hands me back my phone. A powerless feeling throbs in my chest. Tony’s out there, somewhere. Injured. In pain. He needs me to fight for him.

“Tommy, I’m telling you, Rafael kidnapped him. I need your fucking help!”

Suspicious eyes from the mirror narrow at me. “Elena, you’re overreacting. If anything, he’s drunk. Men are jerks when they’re drunk.”

“No, I’m telling you, that’s not it.”

“Tommy, just bring her to the fucking bar,” Melanie finally yells.

He gives her a dark look. “Fine, but you might not like what you see there.”

“Meaning what?”

A fleeting look makes my insides crawl.

“He could be there with another girl.”

Melanie slugs Tommy’s shoulder with her fist, a very angry look on her face.

“Jesus, woman! I’m fuckin’ driving!”

“Don’t be such an asshole!”

“I’m not.”

I don’t listen to them bicker. The irritating noise falls to the background and the only sound is my heartbeat in my head, pulsing loudly. What should I do? I know in my heart of hearts that something went terribly wrong when Tony left the house. Tommy isn’t likely to help me, but maybe John will listen.

What if he doesn’t think the texts are proof, either?

Then I take matters into my own hands.

I’ll find Rafael.

I’ll kill him.

There are other options besides the Mafia. Tony told me all about the bikers in Sorel-Tracy, which is northeast of the city. Their headquarters is a huge concrete bunker that you can see from the highway. The family is allied with them. Maybe they’d be able to help me.

Tommy parks the car and I immediately get out, looking through the darkened windows of his bar for Tony’s shape. Even though I’m sure he’s not there, I can’t help but hope. Tommy rolls his eyes at me as he opens the door for Melanie and I. In the late afternoon, the bar has only a few early drinkers, and none of them are Tony. I wheel around, and Melanie fixes her boyfriend with a death glare.

“He’s not here. We need to do something!”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he looks away from Melanie’s heated stare. “Look, this doesn’t prove anything. The man could be anywhere—”

My scream of frustration cuts his voice off and I rush past him, heading for his office. Swift footsteps follow me into the back and I yank open drawers beside his desk, looking for my money.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He grabs my shoulder roughly and I whirl around, tears blinding my eyes.

“I want to withdraw ten thousand dollars.”

An unpleasant grimace spreads over his face. “Why?” he says, placing his hands on his hips.

“What the fuck does it matter to you? It’s my money!”

“I know that fucking look—it means trouble for me. You’re planning to do something stupid—”

Behind him, Melanie clutches her sleeve. “Just give her what she wants!”

“What she wants?”

The incredulity in his tone sends a hot wave of heat up my throat.

“Don’t pretend like you actually give a damn about Tony.”

“Fuck you. He’s my baby’s father. Of course I care about him.”

Even Melanie gives her boyfriend a scandalized look. “Jesus.”

He looks back and forth from Melanie’s face to mine, smiling at our outrage. “You realize that they made this whole thing up, right? There’s no baby. She lied so she could get her ex off her back. It’s all bullshit.”

Tommy’s angry voice rings out in the small room. Tears streak down my cheeks as his sadistic voice slaps my face. I feel it burn as though he actually struck me.

“It was in the beginning, but it’s not anymore.”

“Oh, right.”

“I’m pregnant with his kid, right hand to God.”

He sneers at the earnest tone in my voice and Melanie makes another violent movement toward her boyfriend.

“If you hit me again, I’ll tie you up right here in this office and spank your sweet ass until it’s raw.”

Her face burns brightly. “You are being a complete asshole.”

“No, I’m not. You don’t know this girl. She came here a month ago and told me about her plan to marry a wise guy so that her ex would leave her alone. Fifty thousand dollars, wasn’t it?”

He turns to me with a genial smile that makes my stomach twist. “It was,” I say in a strong voice, “but—”

“—But you don’t give a shit what happens to me if Johnny finds out about this scam, do you?”

I ball my hands into fists as bitterness gathers in my mouth. My tongue curls against the revolting taste.

“It’s not a scam.”

He gives me a very ugly look. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

I’ve lost all fucking patience.

“If you won’t help me, then just give me my fucking money!”

I can’t bear looking at Melanie’s confused face as Tommy wordlessly gets a paper bag and opens the wall safe. He drops bricks of cash in the bag and then slams the door shut. He walks back to me with a deadened look in his eyes, and maybe there’s a sliver of something else. That I better watch my back because the man who helped me out and felt sorry for me is gone.

I stuff the paper bag in my purse and turn around to leave.

“Elena, what about your things? They’re still in Tommy’s car.”

“I don’t care,” I say in a hoarse voice. “I need to find him.”

My feet fly down the bar, ignoring her protests. I run past the patrons and burst outside, thrust into the freezing cold that only feels like a mild distraction. The restaurant where Johnny always hangs out burns in my mind: Le Zinc. I jog down the streets, determined to talk to Johnny before I make my last, most desperate move to save Tony.

Through the pristine windows, I see Johnny seated in the back, flanked by his guards as he picks through his lunch. I yank open the doors and am confronted by the hostile hostess, who recognizes me immediately.

“Mademoiselle, I must insist that you leave—Tarbarnak!”

I ignore her completely, walking swiftly past her to weave around tables, almost bumping into several of them as I make a beeline for Johnny, who raises his head when I approach. Once again his guards throw their arms across my chest, knocking the wind out of me.

“For fuck’s sake, let her though. She’s Tony’s wife.”

The venom in his voice is barely constrained, and I sense a certain amount of revulsion in his gaze. If my status as Tony’s wife is the only reason why Johnny tolerates me, I might be in trouble. Still, he frowns when he sees my tearstained face. I sit down across from him, legs trembling.

“What’s wrong, ma belle?”

“Tony! He’s missing I—I think Rafael has his phone.”

I show him the strange text messages, and Johnny’s sculpted face betrays no emotion. He gives me a blank look.

“You think Rafael is using his phone? Why?”

“He wants him dead. Obviously, Tony got jumped or something, and—”

“And what? Tony is a big boy. He can handle your pathetic, junkie ex.”

“These texts aren’t like him.” Heat boils in my chest as I watch him study his nails. “Don’t you fucking care?”

A dangerous look crosses his face as my voice snaps over him.

“Do I care about one of my men going missing? Yes.”

“Then why aren’t you listening to me?”

“I did listen,” he says in a bored voice as his black eyes slide to mine. “Tony isn’t missing. If he doesn’t show up for a couple days, then I’ll worry.”

“A couple days? Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve just told you that I’ve reason to believe that Rafael kidnapped my husband.”

“Reason? I don’t see no reason.” His eyes sear into mine. “I see a paranoid, newly wedded wife. Your husband works ’round the clock for me. You’re going to have to get used to him not coming home some nights.”

This is not about that, you stupid piece of shit!

Johnny rolls a cigarette on the table with slim, deft fingers and picks it up.

“I’m sorry that you’re upset, but I really don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

I’m seized with an urge to lunge across the table and yank him by his striped blue tie—to make him look at me with a modicum of respect and not just as the fucking Vittorio scumbag’s daughter.

Then red sparks fly as he lights up, looking at me across the table with supreme boredom.

He won’t help me. No one will.

The enormity of my responsibility lays across my shoulders like a dead horse. I can barely rise from the table. Johnny gives me a fleeting look.

“You’re making a big mistake.”

Smoke drifts across his emotionless face. He doesn’t laugh at me, or smile, or give any indication that he thinks I’m being ridiculous, but he doesn’t reassure me, either.

I’m coming, Tony.

* * *

The concrete fortress stands like a sentinel over a ruined city. Crumbling infrastructure surrounds the place like rot. Urban decay. The triple-barbed-wire fence looks daunting, and I have no idea what to expect when I drive Tony’s car to their gates, which open when I roll the car closer.

My heart jumps as the gates groan. They swing inward, and I catch a glimpse of dirty, leather-jacketed men, their arms covered in tattoos. Some wear bandanas or baseball caps, others have long, flowing beards. They lack the professional, clean vibe of the mob. Even the guys look different. They’re definitely not Italian, that’s for sure.

They’re also armed to the fucking teeth.

A surprisingly semi-groomed man walks to my window and taps on it with his shotgun. There’s a patch on his leather vest: President. Right above it: Les Diables MC. I know next to nothing about biker gangs, only that I wish I were anywhere but here.

Tony needs you.

I roll down the window and the President, whoever the fuck he is, bows his head. He peers at me over the rims of his Ray-Bans and spits out the toothpick he worries in his mouth. The sides of his head are shaved and there’s a long star gouged into his face. He gives me a long, searching look.

“Qu’est ce-que vous faites ici?”

I don’t understand a word. “I don’t speak French. I’m Elena, Tony Vidal’s wife.”

“Carlos. President of Les Diables. I know your husband.”

“You do?”

Hope lifts my spirits as he steps back, motioning for me to step out of the car. I get out and step into the compound, which looks like a series of bunkers lined up in rows. There’s a giant ranch house, which Carlos leads me to as his friends escort us there. My skin shivers as he opens the heavy door to the house, which looks more like a saloon as I approach it. It’s well lit inside and there’s a bar with pool tables and booths. Scantily clad women dance suggestively around poles. Even stranger, there’s a woman holding a squalling baby near what looks like a canteen. It looks like some kind of depraved community area.

Carlos leads me into his office, and a couple other men slide into seats behind me as I sit across from his desk. He sits down and adjusts his jacket.

“What can I do for you?”

What do I want them to do? I want them to find Rafael and kill the fucker.

“I want Rafael Costa dead. Can you find him?”

He grins at me as the shock on his face fades. Then he leans back. “You’re a piece of work, aren’t you? Johnny called ahead and told me that you might pay me a visit. I’m sorry. Much as I’d like to help you whack an Italian, I can’t do it.”

“Then—what about if you helped me find my husband? I think Rafael kidnapped him—I know he kidnapped him.”

The men behind me shift in their seats. It raises the hair on my neck.

Carlos gives me a shrewd look. “If that’s true, why are you coming to us?”

“Johnny doesn’t believe me. Look, I’m willing to pay you five grand right now if you agree to go looking for Tony. You’ll get another five grand when you find him.”

He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Seems like a pretty good deal.”

He’s probably trying to hold back how much of a steal this is. Ten grand to find a missing person? Unheard of.

“If you find him and he turns out to be fine, joke’s on me, okay? But I think Rafael has him against his will and I need your help finding him.”

I reach into my purse and pull out a few of the bricks of cash. I let them fall over the table. His gaze flicks to the men behind me.

“All right—”

“And I want a gun.”

His grin widens, exposing a row of silver teeth. “I don’t think so. No.”

“But—!”

“I’m not giving Tony’s wife a gun.”

Fine. I can probably get one myself anyway.

I extend my hand. “Deal.”

We shake hands and he keeps my fingers in his grasp for a moment.

“I don’t usually get involved in mob business, but your husband was always a decent guy, not like the pricks we usually have to deal with. I’ll get some people on the streets to look for him right away.”

“Thank you.”

The weight lessens somewhat, but then Rafael’s cruel face twisted in malevolence haunts my mind. I touch my belly and another stab of panic hits me.

Tony is the only person who ever made me feel as if I was worth a damn. My sister, my mom, they basically left me to be consumed by my ex the moment Dad passed.

I walk outside with the bikers, who escort me back to my car. Nothing feels any better. I’ve someone on my side, but I’m not any closer to finding Tony.

It all comes down to him. Rafael. It’s the fault of his stupid male ego that couldn’t accept that I’m a person who made her own fucking decisions. I was never real, just a prop in his life. I was just the boss’s daughter. If he was with me, maybe his career would advance. Maybe he’d be made capo. Who knows, maybe he’d succeed my dad as boss. But none of that ever happened. All that work he put into courting me was for nothing, because Dad’s dead. My value is completely gone, and now I’ve left him. Why couldn’t he just leave me be?

Fuck him. Fuck him.

My hands clench my cell phone as if it’s his neck, and I have a glorious vision of his eyes bugging out as I cut off his airway. Let’s see how you fucking like it.

I drive back to Tony’s apartment, because I don’t care about confronting Rafael at this point. Once I’m there, I find a gun in Tony’s nightstand and I pop open the safety. My dad taught me how to shoot when I was a kid. I pace back and forth in place with it in my hand, my head steaming with images of Tony lying on some rotten floor, dead. A scream suddenly tears from my throat as sobs shake my chest. I can’t stand it—I can’t fucking stand this inaction. Hours tick by slowly, and I resist the urge to call Carlos, over and over. No, sorry, they still haven’t found him.

I take my cell phone and stare into the glowing blue screen. My thumb hovers over it.

Tony, come home. I’m waiting for you here.

The response is almost immediate: All right, I’m coming.

I want to smash the fucking screen and feel the shards of glass dig into my hand. My vision sears with red as I grab the pistol in my purse and wrench open the door to outside. My finger tenses over the trigger as I step out, just waiting for one hint of that fucker’s face. I’ll wait for the asshole.

That’s right. Come for me, Rafael. I’ll get rid of you and I won’t give a flying fuck about it.

Energy roars through my veins like too many caffeinated drinks. I feel more alert than I’ve ever been as I hurry down the steps and hide behind a garbage bin just off the side of the brownstone. It’s tall enough so that I have to only slightly bend my knees.

The streets are too cold for anyone to mingle outside, and I desperately rub my fingers together to keep them from getting numb. I need to be able to shoot him. Just point and shoot.

My heart feels as though it’s on the verge of explosion. Even though I want to fucking kill him, I’m scared. It’s so fast and painful against my chest that I feel dizzy with the rush of blood to my head.

It’ll be a fucking miracle if he doesn’t spot me, but I’m counting on the fact that he’ll be so anxious to see me that he won’t be careful. He’ll just run up the steps, ignoring the sides of the apartment.

From the glow of the streetlights, I see a dark, lean figure walking across the street with his hands deep inside his pockets. He looks both ways and hurries across, wet boots shining as he crosses the slick street.

This might be it.

I extend my arms just like my dad taught me, following his shape as he walks up the steps to my apartment, but I still can’t make out his face.

Fuck!

Time slows down. His gait lengthens. He raises his fist to the door, and all the while a clear voice whispers in my head. It knows exactly what I need to do.

Wait ’til he turns. Then shoot.

The porch light flares on, and his haggard face slowly turns away from the brightness, wincing. He looks across, directly at me—and I recognize him in an instant. Half of a second—that’s all it takes for me to make up my mind to kill. My finger trembles. A blast explodes from the muzzle of the gun and Rafael screams into the night. It’s so fucking loud that it startles me.

Then he disappears.

Wait—where the fuck did he go?

There’s a noise through the thick, cold darkness. A moaning sound—someone full of pain.

Oh God, I hope I didn’t hit someone else.

The maddening thought briefly seizes my head before I see Rafael’s shaking body, slumped over and partially hidden by the bars.

I fucking got him.

Heart pounding hard, I stand up from behind the garbage bin as Rafael topples backward, his body crashing into the steps as he slides down.

Yes!

I run around the side and almost run into Rafael’s heaving body. He blinks rapidly as I aim my gun right at his rat face.

“You shot me?”

I did. There’s a nice, clean hole buried in his shoulder. In the darkness, his leather jacket just looks wet.

And yet there’s no outrage in Rafael’s eyes. He can barely process what just happened.

“I can’t believe you fucking shot me.”

“Where the fuck is my husband?”

I aim the muzzle between his eyes so that he can’t miss it. His eyes widen and he spreads his white hand against the snow.

His demeanor shifts when he realizes that I’m dead fucking serious. “Your husband?”

“Want another one? Don’t waste my time, you prick. Where’s Tony?”

“Oh, Tony.” He gives me a nasty grin and shrugs despite the pain in his shoulder. “Fuck if I know.”

“You have his cell phone. Any more lies, and I’ll shoot you again.”

The gun trembles in my grip and Rafael seems to finally understand how unhinged I just might be.

“Look, he’s probably already gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but I had to get rid of him.”

“Don’t!”

It rips from my throat in a scream that the whole neighborhood can probably hear. That’s it—Rafael just confirmed what I knew all along, that Tony is dead. He’s gone.

The world dissolves away like sand. It’s all gray and flat. Suddenly I feel the cold. Like an oppressive fog, it envelops my body. Blood rushing to my skin feels like a thousand painful pinpricks. My eyes burn, but I can’t cry. I barely have the strength to hold the gun, and really the only warmth is glowing in my belly. Because the kid still matters. Because it’s all I’ve left of him.

He’s gone. He’s gone.

I can’t take it. I want to scream with the grief howling inside me. I want to destroy every shred of light left in the universe, because the only one in my life is gone.

“I was never going to let anyone come between us. Help me get up, and I’ll forgive you for this.”

He brushes aside Tony’s death as if it were a minor inconvenience. He strains to sit up, and I aim the gun at his forehead.

I hate him.

I’ve never hated anyone so fucking much, not even the bastards who killed my father.

“I loved him,” I scream in a shrill voice. “I loved him more than you could ever fucking fathom!”

“I love you,” he says in an angry voice. “I did everything I could to get you back, and now that I have you back I’m never letting you go.”

“You don’t have me. You never had me.”

The gun trembles in my hands and a thrill runs through me. I’ve never killed anyone before, and I’m about to see what it feels like. Will I feel anything? Will there be regret?

He shakes his head. “Baby, you don’t have it in you.”

“See you in Hell.”

I pull the trigger as something crashes into my side. Sparks fly on the pavement as the bullet glances off the ground. I fall down, heart hammering. The wind is knocked from my chest and I wheeze.

What the fuck?

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Another man’s voice growls in my ear as he yanks me upright, and I’m so bewildered that I can’t find words as he picks me off the ground.

“Is he—is he dead?”

The man holding me by the scruff of my neck snarls in my face. “I don’t fucking know. You’re not supposed to touch him!”

“I’m not dead.”

Rafael’s voice sounds strange, yet still very much alive. A surge of rage rushes through my limbs, and I try to shove the man aside.

“Let me kill him. I want to do it. Step aside!”

“No!”

He takes me bodily and forces me up the stairs, leaving Rafael behind.

“Give me that fucking gun.”

He twists it out of my grip and shoves me into my apartment. Then I finally get a good look at him. He’s one of the men I saw at the Les Diables fortress.

“Did you follow me here?”

“Good thing Carlos asked me to, because otherwise you’d be in deep shit.” He looks behind himself and sees Rafael, still sprawled on the pavement. “Fuck.”

Fury rustles my insides like black tar. I should have killed him a long time ago, but now it’s too late and Tony’s gone.

“I need to make some phone calls to take care of this. Try to escape, and I’ll tie you up.”

He shakes his head at me as I cross my arms and sit down with an angry sob.

A strange feeling goes through me as I take my seat. It’s like a long, drawn-out howl. The worst grief I’ve ever felt in my life squeezes my chest and I just collapse over the kitchen table. My sobs echo through the house, loud enough to disturb the biker from his phone calls. He steps outside, slamming the door shut. Then there’s nothing but the echo of my grief and the resounding fact that I failed.