"Where are we going?"
It was 10:30 p.m., and Gianna asked the question quietly as she walked beside Athena, their steps crunching softly on gravel as they passed Spider's cottage. The night air was cool, heavy with pine and damp earth.
"I thought the captive would be at Spider's?"
Athena shot her a disbelieving look, slowing just enough to make her point clear. "As much as Spider has no qualms about bloodshed and gory torture, we can't possibly do that in a man's living room—or anywhere else in his house—unless there's some underground basement he forgot to mention."
She snorted under her breath. "Spider isn't psychotic. He isn't that person."
The same name flashed through both their minds at the same time. Connor.
Connor was that person.
Connor—a good friend of Ewan's, the one who had introduced him to the Vipers gang back in their younger days. Connor, who derived absolute joy from torturing and killing people slowly.
