I leaned my head against the cool glass of the passenger window.

The city lights blurred into long streaks of yellow and red in the rain.

I thought about my quiet life before this.

I was just a tailor.

I measured shoulders and stitched linings.

Now, I was riding in a black sedan with a mafia boss, running from his head of security.

“Killian knows where I live,” I said.

“He brought me to your penthouse.”

“He knows the atelier,” Aries agreed.

“But he thinks we are heading to my safe house in Queens.”

“He will search there first.”

We drove through the empty streets of Manhattan.

The rain seemed to muffle the sounds of the city.

Aries drove fast but smoothly, his eyes constantly checking the mirrors.

His sensitivity to sound meant he did not use the radio.

The only noise was the steady thud of the windshield wipers.

“Why would Killian betray you?” I asked.

“He has been with you for years.”

“Greed,” Aries said.

“Or fear.”

“The people importing the dye are not local.”

“They are from the mainland.”