I looked out the rear window, watching Marcus’s glittering estate fade into the dark trees.

My phone, still hidden in my coat pocket, suddenly began to vibrate against my ribs.

I reached in and pulled it out, expecting a message from my contact.

Instead, the screen lit up with an incoming video call from an blocked number.

I stared at the glowing display, my heart stopping as a thumbnail preview of a live security camera feed appeared on the screen.

It showed the interior of the very SUV we were currently riding in.

I gasped, dropping the phone onto my lap.

The screen bounced against the leather seat, still glowing with the green and gray tones of the night-vision camera.

“Damiano,” I whispered, pointing a shaking finger at the glass.

He looked down, his eyes narrowing as he took in the image of our own heads from a high angle behind us.

Without a word, he reached up toward the plastic housing of the dome light.

His fingers pried at the seam of the plastic cover.

With a sharp snap, the cover came off, exposing the wiring.