Page 85 of The Voicemail

“Cut him off,” I tell Luca through my earpiece. “I’m staying with Elena.”

Luca doesn’t waste time arguing. “Understood.”

Gunfire cracks from the dining room. I go to her. She watches me come, breathing too fast, eyes too wide.

I crouch in front of her but don’t touch her. “Elena.”

Her gaze moves over my face like she’s trying to decide if I’m real.

“Maya,” she gasps, like that’s an answer.

“We’ll find her.”

“She’s here,” she says quickly. “Bianchi said to put me with the other one. He meant Maya. She’s here.”

I look over my shoulder at the men waiting for my order.

“Search every room. Maya is in the building.”

Two men move immediately. I turn back to Elena and pull the small knife from my pocket, holding it where she can see it.

“I’m going to cut the tie.”

She nods once. The zip tie is tight enough that her skin is raw beneath it. I slide the blade under the plastic and cut it cleanly. The second her hands are free, she brings them to her stomach.

It’s instinctive, and she clearly doesn’t realize what she’s doing at first. Then her eyes jump to mine, and the fear there is different from the rest.

I want to tell her I know. That Nico told me, and that he’s still breathing only because she is. That I understand now why she ran, why she hid it, why she’s so afraid of who I am.

None of that is a conversation for this kitchen. So I only say, “I’ve got you.”

Her face crumples for half a second before she pulls it back together.

“I stabbed him,” she says. “With a letter opener.”

My throat tightens, and I almost laugh.

“You did what you had to.”

Luca’s voice comes through my earpiece. “Bianchi is moving toward the garage tunnel. I can cut him off if I move now.”

Elena hears enough of it. Her eyes sharpen. “Go.”

“No.”

“Alex, go.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“He’ll come back.”

“He won’t get far.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” I say, and brush blood carefully from the corner of her mouth with my thumb. “But I know you’re hurt. I’m staying with you.”

She closes her eyes, and for one second, she leans into my hand. Then the moment is gone.