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The tears only roll down her cheeks when I tie the second knot on the rope around her wrists. I swipe them away with my thumb, before clamping my hands on either side of her face and forcing her to look me in the eye.
“You’re stronger than this,” I say firmly. “I know you are. I’ve seen it. The fucking Van der Boors were scared of you, even when they had you chained to a radiator. I need to see that fight in you today, do you understand me?”
“What if it goes wrong?” she croaks back. “And he takes me?”
“He won’t—”
“But if he does,” she sobs. “It’s always a possibility, no matter how small. What if the plan goes wrong?”
I search her eyes and immediately know she needs the truth.
“Then I’ll burn down the entire city of Philadelphia to get you back. The entire state, if I have to.”
The silence crackles between us as I pull out of the rest stop and rejoin the highway. But her breathing is slower and her leg has stopped jiggling.
She knows I mean it.
Ten minutes later, I turn off down a country lane, following it until it opens up to a large redbrick building. Piles of rubble, boarded-up doors, and smashed windows are clear signs that it hasn’t been used in decades.
“You couldn’t have picked somewhere a little less scary to meet? Like a Starbucks or something?” Dahlia mutters, craning her neck to look up at the building.
Despite the situation, I can’t help but smile at her sass. But it’s back to business when I put the car in park and switch off the engine, plunging us into total silence.
There are no signs of life yet, but I know the Quinns are nearby. As much as I want to steal a kiss from Dahlia’s lips before we go inside, I won’t take the risk. If I can’t see the Quinns, I might not spot Abruzzo and his men, either.
Instead, I stare down at the steering wheel and say, “I’ll have to act rough with you, okay?”
She sighs. “I know. It has to look realistic.”
“Good girl.”
I tap out a text to Donnacha on my burner cell, informing him of our arrival. He knows to get the henchmen into position and wait for my warning shot. His reply comes back straight away.
Target is pulling up.
I look up at the building. Abruzzo must be entering from the front.
“Cillian?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Be careful.”
“I told you, you’re safe with—”
“No,” she interrupts, her tone firm and her eyes pleading. “Keep yourself safe too. Don’t risk your life to save mine.”
I suck in a lungful of air and shake my head. Mutter the first expletive that comes to mind under my breath. From resenting the fact I saved her, to knowing I’d lay down my life for her, all in under a month.
“Time to go.”
Without looking at her again, I round the car, open the passenger door and grab the knot that binds her wrists. She comes willingly, and as I march her towards the building, I push her head down, so she’s bent over at a ninety-degree angle.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
She replies with a small sob.
The factory is dark. Too dark. As I blink to adjust my eyes, I reach into my waistband and subtly release the safety catch of my Glock. Just in case I need to use it earlier than expected.
