“Down here!” I yelled back.

My hand shook, but I kept the gun pointed directly at Evelyn.

She remained on her knees, whimpering, her hands clutching her head.

Marcus backed up until his spine hit the damp brick wall.

His chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths.

“Don’t move, Marcus,” I said.

Above us, another burst of gunfire rattled the floorboards.

Dust sifted down through the cracks, landing on my hair and shoulders.

“Put the gun down, Alessia,” Marcus whispered.

His voice was barely audible over the noise.

“Please. We can still walk out of here. We can tell them it was all a mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” I said.

“You sold me out.”

The heavy boots on the stairs grew louder.

A man in a dark tactical vest descended first, his rifle raised.

He scanned the cellar in a second, his eyes locking onto Marcus, then Evelyn.

“Clear!” the man shouted back up the stairs.

Then, Dante stepped into the light of the flashlight.

He wore a long charcoal coat, damp from the rain outside.