We drove through the slick streets of the industrial district.

The neon signs of pawn shops and strip clubs blurred past the rain-streaked windows.

Nobody spoke for several minutes.

The silence in the car was heavy, filled with unspoken threats and old grudges.

“Where are we going?” I asked, breaking the quiet.

“A safehouse in the North End,” Roman said, adjusting his cuffs.

“The Vescari family owns the building, but the deed is under a shell company.”

“It is secure,” Roman added.

“For now,” Declan said, glaring at the rearview mirror.

“But Salvi has eyes everywhere.”

“And your father is still talking to Victor’s people,” Declan added.

My chest tightened at the mention of my father.

Richard Callahan had sold me like a piece of cargo to settle his gambling debts.

He thought he could slip away with a fortune while I paid his price.

“He won’t be talking to them for long,” I said, reaching into my pocket.

I pulled out a small, encrypted flash drive.

I had taken it from the safe in the study before the guards realized I was gone.