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"You don't have to forgive me. I'm not asking for that. But Vivienne has sent more men and Genesis has voided my contract, which means I'm a target now, too. I can keep you alive. Let me keep you alive. Hate me the whole time if you need to, but please, Neve, do not make me watch you die."

Silence stretches between us. Rain drums on the dumpster lids. The unconscious man groans against the asphalt and I keep one eye on him while the rest of me stays locked on her.

She wipes her face with the back of her hand. The gesture is fierce, angry, the same quick swipe I've watched her make when flour gets in her eyes at four in the morning.

"If I go with you, it's because I don't want to die. Not because I forgive you."

"I understand."

"And if you lie to me again, about anything, even the small things, I will walk and I won't come back."

"I won't lie or omit anything again."

She studies me for a long, agonizing beat. Those green eyes strip me to the bone, searching for anything she doesn’t like. Every word I just spoke came from a place so deep inside me I didn't know it existed until she carved it open.

Her arms drop from around her middle and she takes a small step toward me. Her jaw is still tight. Her body still trembles. But her eyes hold mine and she gives me the smallest, most reluctant nod I have ever received.

The fabric of my jacket swallows her frame and she pulls it close, burying her nose against the collar.

"It smells like you," she says quietly, and the ache in her voice guts me.

I take her hand. Her fingers are freezing and they don't grip back, but she doesn't pull away.

We turn toward the mouth of the alley.

And my blood stops moving.

A black Town Car idles at the curb. The rear door opens and a pair of crimson-soled heels touch the wet pavement. Vivienne Castellano steps from the vehicle in a tailored charcoal suit with her platinum hair pinned without a strand out of place. Cold blue eyes sweep the alley, pass over the bodies on the ground, and settle on Neve with the flat assessment of a woman inspecting damaged merchandise.

Behind me, boots scrape against wet asphalt at the opposite end of the alley. I pull Neve into my side and glance over my shoulder.

Two men. Broad, armed, positioned shoulder-width apart to cover the full width of the passage. Genesis runners. I recognize the one on the left. Snake Eyes. The dock rat with the permanent death stare and a body count that rivals mine.

No exits. Brick walls on both sides, too high to scale without a ladder. The fire escape hangs eight feet up with a rusted bottom rung that would snap under body weight.

Neve's fingers finally tighten around mine.

Vivienne smooths a hand over her chignon and tilts her head. Her crimson lips curve into a smile so precise it could cut glass.

"Hello, sweetheart. You're a difficult girl to kill."

CHAPTER 12

NEVE

So this is what Vivienne looks like without the mask.

No rehearsed warmth. No performance for my dad. All I see in front of me is cold blue eyes sweeping over bodies and blood like she's tallying an inventory shortage in her priceless wine cellar. Fury blazes through me and my stomach gurgles as acid washes against the sides.

It takes everything in me not to bellow out a warrior cry and put a bullet in her head. If I had a gun, she'd be dead.

My stepmother stands at the mouth of this alley in her Louboutins and her charcoal suit. Every Christmas dinner, birthday phone call, every time she squeezed my hand at my father's funeral and whispered "I'm here for you, sweetheart," burns to ash in my chest.

My fingers crush Thane's hand hard enough to grind bone against bone.

Nausea churns in my belly at the stench of blood, but I swallow down the urge to hurl. I’m brave and willing to throw hands, but I can’t handle the smell of blood.

Instead of focusing on that, I pull my attention to some very real problems. Like the fact two runners block the other end of the alley. I squeeze Thane’s hand and signal for him to look behind us. He gives a nod without taking his eyes off my stepmother.