Page 133 of Fall Before Her Throne

“Give him the phone, please,” I said.

It took a second before his voice came through the line. “Ryuji?”

My voice was low, corded with tension. “You will keep her safe.”

He paused for a few seconds. “I will.”

“Max.”

“I will. Above all. Trust me.”

I rubbed my eyes while I sighed. I was pretty sure that I did. I’d gotten so fucking soft. “Don’t make us regret it.”

He hung up to get them both prepared, and I leaned over the seat row to watch Ciel’s computer. His fingers typed furiously while screen after screen flicked by.

“Here,” he said as a camera feed popped up. He scrolled through a couple of different videos, all following the same vehicle. “The same van, going south from Connecticut on the 95.”

“We’ll follow them,” Obi said. The engine jumped, and the SUV sped up. “Plot a course to intercept.”

“Got it.”

“Chiara will fight back,” Cas said. “She’s like Leona. She wouldn’t let them take her easily.”

I just hoped the Camorra didn’t kill her before we could catch up.

41

LEONA

Ciel texted me an intercept course, and I ran it on my phone while Max drove. This software was the same program he used when we were tracking down Albanians in New Jersey a couple of months ago. He’d apparently made it himself, and so far it was outstanding.

The van we chased was a little, blinking red blip. Max and I were blinking blue, while the rest of the guys blinked purple. A line connected all three of our vehicles and continually shifted based on how the van moved. The closer it got to the city, the closer we were to catching it.

“The van took a sharp turn north,” Ciel said through our speakerphone. “It’s not going into Manhattan anymore.”

A second later, the course populated updates and started giving us new directions.

“Leona, zoom in on the van,” Max said, quickly glancing from my phone back to the road. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

“Okay.” My fingers pinched and zoomed in on the screen. Max’s brow furrowed while he watched the van make a couple more turns.

“Zoom out a little more and go slightly east.”

I did as he asked, trying to show him the map while he kept up with the ever-changing directions the program fed us.

“I think I know where they’re going,” he said softly. His eyes flicked back down to the screen. The van made another turn. “Yeah, it has to be.”

“What is it?” Cas asked through the phone.

“They’re taking her to my house,” Max said. “I wonder if Greco is there now.”

I stared at the blinking red dot. My best friend was in that van. “You think Greco’s there?”

“Maybe. It’s a fair assumption,” he replied. “If they’re using it as a base, he might want to hold her there to use against us. If he’s not there, he could be on his way.”

My lips pressed together. The last time I was there, that house pissed me off. But the idea of Greco occupying it, for whatever extent or reason, made my desire to burn it to the ground even more extensive. And if he hoped to cage Chiara there?

“Well, at least we know where that is,” I said tightly. “Hear that, guys?”