“She said I don’t know anything,” I said. “And that I’m about to learn what it costs to cross her.”

Elena shifted the SUV into drive and pulled away from the curb.

The tires crunched over the patches of frozen slush on the street.

“She’s bluffing because she’s cornered,” Elena said, keeping her eyes on the dark road ahead.

“Patricia doesn’t bluff,” I said, looking out at the gray, towering buildings of downtown Minneapolis.

Cold air seeped through the window seal, chilling my cheek.

My phone vibrated again, the screen lighting up the dark interior of the car.

It was a text from Harrison.

*Claire, please. Let me come up. We need to talk before she does something we can’t undo.*

I stared at the glowing letters on the screen.

“He wants to meet,” I said.

“Don’t do it,” Elena said, her voice tight. “He’s a messenger boy now.”

“I need to look him in the eye one last time,” I said. “Tell him it’s over.”

Elena pulled the car up to the secure garage entrance of my penthouse building.