“We need to get out of here.”

“We will,” Dante said.

“But first, we finish this.”

He turned back to Marcus.

“Where is Vanessa Hale right now?” Dante asked.

Marcus laughed, a dry, rattling sound.

“You think she’s waiting around for you?”

“She’s probably already on a flight out of the country.”

“She wouldn’t leave without her cut,” I said.

“And her cut is in those accounts.”

Dante’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

He pulled it out and answered it immediately.

“Speak,” he said.

He listened for a moment, his expression hardening.

The cellar grew quiet, save for the sound of the rain dripping from the pipes above.

“Are you certain?” Dante asked.

He paused, his eyes locked on Marcus.

“Hold her there. I’m on my way.”

He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his coat.

“What is it?” I asked.

“My men just spotted Hale’s car,” Dante said.

“Where?”

“At her downtown office,” Dante said.

“She is shredding documents.”

“We have to go,” I said, taking a step toward the stairs.

Dante held up a hand, stopping me.