“I want a car!”

“And I want safe passage out of the city!”

“If I don’t get it, the girl gets a bullet!”

The silence returned, heavier than before.

The smell of old oil and river mud seemed to grow stronger.

Above us, a loose piece of sheet metal rattled in the wind.

It sounded like footsteps.

Derek flinched, turning the gun toward the sound.

For a second, the pressure on my temple eased.

I tried to pull away, but his fingers were locked in my hair.

“Don’t move,” he whispered.

“Don’t even twitch.”

The phone in his pocket vibrated again.

The screen lit up, casting a pale blue glow on his thigh.

He didn’t answer it this time.

He kept his eyes locked on the shadows.

“I know how Vincent works,” Derek muttered, almost to himself.

“He won’t risk you.”

“He needs you alive.”

“Why?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Why does he care about me?”

Derek laughed, a dry, bitter sound.

“Because of your father, Clara.”

“Your father saved his life ten years ago.”

“Vincent Moretti doesn’t leave debts unpaid.”