“I can give you the names,” I said. “But the dye was applied locally. In Brooklyn.”

“The dyer,” Killian said. “Leo?”

“Yes,” I said. “Leo Vargas. He does all my custom color matching.”

Aries looked out the window as we neared the dark, industrial shoreline.

The towering cranes of the shipping yards loomed like skeletal giants against the night sky.

“We start with Leo,” Aries said.

The SUV slowed down, turning onto a gravel path that led toward a secluded wooden pier.

At the end of the pier sat a weathered gray boathouse, its windows completely dark.

Killian killed the headlights, plunging us into near-total darkness.

“Wait here,” Killian said, opening his door.

He slipped out into the rain, disappearing into the shadows of the boathouse.

Inside the quiet vehicle, I could hear the rain drumming relentlessly on the metal roof.

Aries turned his head toward me.

“Are you afraid of me, Sienna?” he asked quietly.

“I am afraid of the people who just blew up your apartment,” I said honestly.

A faint, grim smile touched his lips.

“Good,” he said. “Fear keeps you sharp.”