DANTE POV
The smoke was choking me.
I pressed Celeste against the floor, covering her body with mine as chaos burst around us. Gunfire. Screaming. The strong smell of whatever they'd thrown through the window burning my throat.
"Stay down!" I shouted.
But she wasn't listening. She was trying to push me off, trying to look toward where that impossible voice had come from.
"Did you hear that?" she gasped. "Someone was here. Someone spoke to me—"
"I don't care. We're going. Now."
I hauled her up and half-dragged, half-carried her toward the door. Ghost appeared through the smoke like his nickname, gun drawn, face deadly calm.
"Boss, we have a situation."
"No kidding. Get us out of here."
"That's the situation. Someone locked down the building. All openings sealed. Whoever hit us, they planned this."
My mind raced. We were trapped in a burning building with Celeste Armitage—who'd just admitted she needed me for information—and someone had left a message asking about a letter she'd gotten.
This wasn't random bloodshed.
This was a setup.
"The service elevator," I said. "It has emergency override."
We ran through the smoke-filled hallway. Behind us, I could hear more windows breaking, more smoke bombs detonating. Someone wanted chaos. Wanted fear.
Or wanted everyone busy while they did something else.
We reached the service lift. Ghost jammed his key into the override switch and the doors opened.
"Get in," I ordered Celeste.
She stumbled inside, coughing, her ice-blue eyes dripping tears from the smoke. Even like this—terrified, disheveled, barely able to breathe—she was beautiful.
And dangerous.
I'd realized that the moment she'd told me she needed me. Nobody needed me. People feared me, followed me, used me. But need suggested something else. Something I didn't understand yet.
The lift dropped fast. Ghost kept his gun raised, ready for anything.
"Who would do this?" Celeste asked, her voice rough. "Who would attack the Crimson Rose? That's death."
"Someone who wanted to send a message," I said. "Or someone who wanted to kidnap you before I could take you home."
Her eyes widened. "Kidnap me? Why would—"
"Because I just paid ten million dollars for you in front of every power player in New York," I interrupted. "That makes you valuable. That makes you a target."
The elevator dinged. Ground floor.
The doors opened to show three men with guns.
Not my friends.
"Down!" Ghost fired before I could blink, dropping two of them instantly. The third got a shot off that pinged off the lift wall inches from my head.
I yanked Celeste behind me and drew my own gun, firing twice. The man dropped.
"Basement parking," Ghost said. "Move."
We ran through the carnage, stepping over bodies, while alarms screamed overhead. My car was exactly where I'd left it, unchanged. At least something was going right.
"In," I ordered Celeste.
She paused, staring at the dead men we'd left behind. "You just killed three people."
"Yes. Would you prefer I'd let them kill us?"
"I—no, but—"
"In the car. Now. We can discuss my moral flaws later."
She scrambled into the backseat. Ghost took the driver's seat while I slid in beside Celeste, gun still drawn, looking for threats.
The car roared to life and we peeled out of the parking garage into the New York night.
For three blocks, nobody spoke. Then Celeste turned to me with those calculating ice-blue eyes, and I saw real intelligence burning there. Not fear. Not thanks.
Strategy.
"That voice," she said softly. "The one that spoke to me in the smoke. It was female. And she said she'd been waiting three years."
"Three years," I repeated slowly. "That's how long ago your father died."
"Yes."
"And this letter you received. The one the message referenced. What did it say?"
Celeste bit her lip, clearly weighing whether to trust me. Finally, she said, "It told me my father was killed. That the suicide note was faked. That someone had proof."
My blood went cold. "Who sent it?"
"I don't know. It was nameless. But it told me to make sure you bought me at the auction. Said it was the only way I'd get close enough to learn the truth."
I stared at her, pieces clicking together in my head. Pieces that formed a picture I really didn't like.
"So someone wanted you in my possession," I said slowly. "Someone set this whole thing up—the sale, the letter, probably even your father's death. They wanted you and me together."
"But why?"
"That's what we're going to find out."
Ghost caught my eye in the rearview mirror. "Boss, we've got a tail. Black SUV, been following us since we left."
Of course we did.
"Lose them," I ordered.
Ghost grinned. "With pleasure."
The car sped, whipping through traffic. Celeste grabbed my arm to support herself, and I felt that electricity again. That pull I'd experienced when I first saw her on the stage.
This woman was going to be trouble. I could feel it.
"There's something else," Celeste said as Ghost took a hard turn that threw us both sideways. "The voice in the smoke. I recognized it. "
"From where?"
"I don't know yet. But I've heard it before. Recently." Her fingers dug into my arm. "Dante, whoever's doing this, they know both of us. They know our past. They planned this perfectly."
She was right. And that scared me more than the gunfight, more than the bombs, more than anything else tonight.
Because in my world, the people who planned correctly were the ones who won.
And right now, I had no idea who was playing this game or what they wanted.
Ghost took another hard turn. "We're clear. Where to?"
"The apartment. We need to—"
My phone rang. Victor.
"Tell me you have good news," I answered.
"Dante, where are you? I just heard about the Crimson Rose attack. Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. Someone tried to grab the girl I bought."
"Celeste Armitage?" Victor's voice went sharp. "Dante, you need to get rid of her. Right now. She's scary."
"I know. That's why I'm keeping her close."
"You don't understand. I just got word—her grandmother and stepsister were found dead an hour ago. Both killed. And someone left a letter at the scene."
My stomach dropped. "What message?"
"'The lies die tonight. The truth comes next.'"
I looked at Celeste, who was watching me with those ice-blue eyes.
"Victor, I'll call you back."
"Dante, wait—"
I hung up and turned to Celeste. "Your stepmother and stepsister are dead."
All the blood drained from her face. "What?"
"Murdered. Tonight. While we were at the sale."
"No. No, that's—they can't be—" She pressed her hands to her mouth. "I wanted them to pay for what they did, but I never wanted them dead. I never—"
"Someone's cleaning house," I said quietly. "Everyone related to your father's death is being eliminated. And whoever's doing it wants you and me to find out why."
Ghost met my eyes in the mirror again. "Boss, we've got another problem."
"What now?"
"I just got a text from an unknown number." He held up his phone so I could see the screen.
DANTE MORELLI: YOU BOUGHT THE BAIT. NOW LET'S SEE IF YOU'RE SMART ENOUGH TO SURVIVE THE TRAP. THE GAME STARTS AT MIDNIGHT. DON'T BE LATE.
I checked my watch.
11:47 PM.
Thirteen minutes.
"What game?" Celeste whispered. "What's happening?"
Before I could answer, every screen in the car—dashboard, my phone, Ghost's phone—lit up instantly with the same video feed.
A woman appeared on TV. Face hidden behind a white mask. But that voice— "Hello, Dante. Hello, Celeste. Let me properly introduce myself."
The woman reached up and removed her mask.
Celeste screamed.
Because the woman on screen was impossible.
It was her mother.
Who'd been dead for six years.