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“How do you know that?” Noor’s grandfather growls.

“We’ve been watching,” Alastair confesses. “We haven’t bothered her, I swear it.”

“Emil, please. Don’t use the shotgun in a moving car,” Mrs. Denton says.

I don’t know if they’re trying to fuck with us or not, but I squeeze my asshole tightly as my stomach gurgles loudly.

“They really don’t make kids the way they used to,” Emil groans. “Don’t stalk and hurt my people if you aren’t willing to pay the price.”

“Fuck, you’re scary,” Alastair mutters.

“You and I have had our run in once before, cabrón. Rachelle, if they talk now, I won’t be able to hold back. I’ll have Jared pull over and curb stomp them until they're shooting blanks for the rest of their lives.”

“You know about the baby?” Ciaran asks, and I close my eyes as I see my life flash before my eyes.

“Family doesn’t keep secrets, boy,” Emil growls.

Maybe it’s for the best that I’m gagged. This way I’m not part of the problem.

CHAPTER

TWO

ALASTAIR

My heart pounds in my ears as the SUV moves smoothly down the driveway and around to the backyard. It’s every bit as beautiful and mysterious as when I first saw it one night after fucking with Noor.

So much has changed, and I don’t know how to explain it.

Rough hands pull us out of the trunk, and I don’t pay attention to who it is as we’re pushed toward a closed door.

“Julia has the kids inside,” Emil mutters. “They’ll be fine while we figure out what’s going on.”

Knowing Alexa broke in when the Dentons’ kids were here seems so much worse than when I first saw Noor’s body dumped at my feet earlier tonight.

It’s been one fuck up after another, but I’m still willing to admit we started all of this the first time we shoved Noor on her first day of school. We set the precedent that she was fair game.

The stairs are steep as we walk down them and Draven groans behind the gag in his mouth. This is the place you go to torture and kill people. It doesn’t matter that it’s so close to where they live, the mafia makes do with what they can.

This feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

A gorgeous woman with tanned skin and dark curls piled on the top of her head glares at us as we make it to the bottom of the stairs.

“Are we doing this the hard way or do we know where our girl is? This stress can’t be good for her.”

I’ve looked up all the symptoms for POTS, though I call it pots and pans in my head. The woman is right and I saw how much Noor was shivering earlier.

“We swear we had nothing to do with her being taken from the house,” I say softly, wincing as the zip ties are removed.

A pair of heavy cuffs replace it with my arms in front of me and a hook is pulled through the thick chain that connects them. Ignacio and another man pull on a chain by the wall until we’re balancing on our toes, our arms over our heads.

We could die down here and we’d deserve it. The three of us don’t bother to struggle, knowing we’re partially responsible for Noor’s disappearance.

“The cameras show hooded figures, but they’re not large enough to be you,” Mrs. Denton says, sitting in front of us in a chair. It almost feels like a therapy session, but one in a nightmare scape.

“Don’t you have an alarm system?” I ask. “Ow, fuck!”

“If you’re trying to tell my stepdaughter that this is her fault, I’ll fucking hit you again,” the old man snarls. The bat in his hand drops to his side as I breathe through the pain in my side. Dammit, he’s stronger than he looks.