It was coming up.

I stood up, my muscles tense, my hand slipping into my pocket where the burner phone lay.

The elevator clanked to a stop.

I heard the heavy metal gate slide open.

Footsteps echoed on the concrete, deliberate and heavy.

Two figures emerged from the shadows into the faint glow of the halogen light.

The first was a tall man in a dark wool overcoat, his hair damp from the rain, his face sharp and handsome in a way that used to make me feel safe.

It was Ethan.

Behind him was another man, holding Liam by the arm.

Liam’s face was bruised, a dark cut over his left eyebrow, his hands zip-tied behind his back.

He was limping, but his eyes were wide and alert as he looked at me.

“Claire,” Liam rasped, his voice raw. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Shut up,” the man holding him growled, shoving him forward.

Ethan stepped into the office, his eyes scanning the room before settling on me.

He smiled, a cold, familiar curl of his lips that made my skin crawl.