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“I don't,” he said again.

“Then who does?” she asked. Crow hesitated, and Angel's patience snapped. “Who?”

“Shadow knew what Viper found,” Crow said.

Angel stared at him. “Gabriel knew about Razor?”

“Yes,” he said.

“And he didn't tell me?” she asked.

“He was trying to protect you,” Crow insisted.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” she mumbled. Her voice echoed through the barn. “Dad protected me, Gabriel protected me, you protected me, and somehow everybody ended up fucking dead except me!” Crow went silent, and Angel's eyes burned. “I didn't need protection. I needed the truth.”

“You're getting it now,” Crow said.

“You’re seven years too late,” she spat.

“Better late than dead,” he joked. Angel glared at him, and Crow almost smiled. “You’re definitely Viper's daughter.”

“Untie my ankles,” she ordered.

“No,” he breathed.

“You cut my hands loose already,” she said.

“Because I know you can't outrun me with your feet tied,” he admitted.

“You're an asshole,” she growled.

“So I've heard,” he said.

Angel folded her father's letter carefully, and something occurred to her. “The picture.”

Crow frowned. “What picture?”

“The photograph of me sleeping with Ghost and Jackhammer.” His face changed, and Angel's stomach dropped. “You didn't take it.”

“No, I didn’t,” he admitted.

“The motorcycle outside my apartment—was it yours?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“The envelope on my SUV windshield?” she asked.

“No,” he breathed.

Fear crawled slowly up Angel's spine. “Then how did you get into Monster's Madhouse?”

“I followed Razor's men in,” he admitted. Angel stood too fast, and her tied ankles sent her crashing forward.

Crow caught her. “Easy.”

“Get these fucking ropes off me,” she ordered.

“Lina—” he breathed.