“I know you’re here, Arya!” he yelled.

“You think this gangster can protect you?” Marcus asked, laughing dryly.

“He’s just using you to get to my zoning codes!”

Damiano’s chest was rising and falling slowly against my back.

His grip on my shoulder tightened, a silent warning to stay still.

Marcus walked past our closet, his footsteps heavy and uneven.

He stopped right outside the door.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

The screen lit up, illuminating his pale, sweating face.

He dialed a number and put it to his ear.

“Where are my funds?” Marcus hissed into the phone.

“What do you mean, frozen?”

He kicked a piece of broken drywall across the floor.

“Find out who did this,” Marcus snarled. “And call the offshore contact at Vesper.”

I felt Damiano’s body go completely rigid behind me.

His fingers dug into my shoulder so hard it bruised.

Marcus listened to the phone for a second, then lowered it.

He stared directly at the slats of the closet door.

The phone in his hand began to ring again, a loud, clear chime in the silence of the hallway.