“I was,” she said. “I had to be.”

She did not lower the gun.

The silver barrel trembled, but it remained pointed at my heart.

“You need to leave, Dante,” she said. “Go back up. Forget you saw me.”

“I can’t do that,” I said. “I met Rachel. I have her boy, Eli. He came to me for help.”

At the mention of the boy’s name, Isabella’s face went pale.

She lowered the gun a fraction of an inch, her eyes searching my face.

“Eli?” she asked. “Is he safe?”

“He is with Luca,” I said. “He is safe. But his mother is still in Kane’s hands. I came to find you so we could end this.”

Isabella let out a dry, bitter laugh.

It sounded like dry leaves scraping across concrete.

“End it?” she said. “You can’t end it. You are the one who built it.”

I took a half-step forward, but she instantly snapped the revolver back up.

“Don’t move!” she screamed.

Her voice echoed down the empty tunnels, bouncing off the wet tiles.