The warehouse above was a mess of shattered glass and splintered wood.

Two of Dante’s men stood guard near the entrance, their rifles held at their chests.

The rain outside was coming down harder now, drumming against the metal roof.

We ran out to Dante’s black SUV, the cold wind whipping my hair across my face.

Dante opened the passenger door for me, making sure I was settled before he climbed into the driver’s seat.

He started the engine, and the vehicle roared to life.

The headlights cut through the dark, rainy alleyway as we pulled out.

I leaned my head against the headrest, closing my eyes for a brief second.

My muscles ached from the struggle with Evelyn.

But the adrenaline was still pumping through my veins.

“Are you holding up?” Dante asked, his eyes on the road.

“I am,” I said, opening my eyes to look at him.

“How did you find us so fast?”

“I have people watching Marcus’s known associates,” Dante said.

“When his car moved, we followed.”

“He thought he was being clever.”

“He’s desperate,” I said.