Mia reached out to Audrey, pulled her hand back, and then followed through and shook the woman’s shoulder.

“Get up, we’re here.”

Audrey fidgeted with her restraints, a scowl scrunching her face, until she opened her eyes. The sight of the warehouse drained the color from her skin, but it only took one moment for the woman to sober her features and put on the stoic expression of a lawyer. There was no way to hide her dilated pupils, though.

Mimicking the careful mask Audrey had dressed in, Mia kept her voice steady. “If you really want Lara to be safe, you need to tell the Don everything you did.” It would save my ass too, thank you.

Audrey remained silent, staring. It was Mia’s turn to observe the warehouse now; she ignored the look burning into her profile.

Alberto Testa was inside, sitting, waiting for her to bring Lara. Instead, he’d receive someone whose mouth would get the both of them in trouble, if she failed to convince the Don like she did Mia.

“You don’t want to do this.”

Mia kept her eyes on the building, running her tongue against her teeth until she found her words. “I chose to do this.”

Her fingers went to her wrist, brushing the space meant for her silver bracelet. She had a reason for all of this.

“And it’s a bit late to change my mind.”

Mia opened the door.

“Please, don’t do this.”

That stopped Mia in her tracks. Her hand froze on the handle, thumb rubbing against the hard plastic. What was she supposed to do? Turn the engine back on, drop Audrey off somewhere else, and just… go home?

She couldn’t have everything amount to only a bad memory.

Mia’s chest moved with her breath, and after a moment, she faced Audrey. A spark of hope lit in the lawyer’s eyes. She had no choice but to stomp it out.

“When we go in there, tell him you stole the drugs, okay? It will make the punishment easier on everyone—especially Lara.”

Audrey remained silent and looked away, but Mia still noticed the quiver of her chin. The deeper Mia got into this, the more she realized she was not as detached as her fathers were.

A numb throbbing in her forehead made Mia open the glove box to reach for the painkillers, then she popped a couple into her mouth.

“Do you want some?”

Audrey nodded.

Mia shook two into her palm, thought about it, and added a third.

“But I swear to God, if you bite me,” Mia warned, proceeding to slip them between the woman’s lips.

When she finally left the van, Mia breathed out a shaky, “Okay.”

The midday air should have calmed her with its blanket of warmth, but it felt stuffy, suffocating. Mia forced herself to take a deep breath. Sweat beaded above her brow and she wiped it away with the back of her hand before opening the door to face Audrey again.

The green eyes met her own.

“I’m sorry I broke your rib-… in your home,” Mia blurted.

She earned furrowed brows and looked to the zip ties instead, cutting the one that linked Audrey’s wrists to the seat buckle.

Any kindness she was showing the other woman was useless, and completely selfish, but Mia couldn’t stop herself.

Audrey no longer preyed on Mia’s confliction, or resisted her movements. Instead, she stood and walked ahead. She must have realized her fate was final.

When the two reached the door, it opened on its own and a man came out of the building.

“What do you think this is?”

“The Don will want her, I promise.” Mia had never sounded so confident, not while being so deeply the opposite. “She’s responsible for the missing drugs.”

“I thought you had a clear assignment, or did we need to draw it out for you?”

As much as Mia stared into the back of Audrey’s head, it didn’t give her the words to say. She looked up at the man again. “If it angers the Don, I can handle the consequences.”

He twitched a smile. “Alright. Go ahead.”

The warehouse was huge and Mia felt impossibly small. Along with the goon, the rows of shelves loomed over them, and it continued until the opposite wall blurred into a gray mass. Their footsteps echoed and her heart pounded just as loud. Eventually, the two women were led to the right, where the men had arranged a makeshift lounge area against a cleared out portion of the wall.

The first she noticed was the blond man that met her in the limousine, pacing about as he spoke on the phone. As soon as he saw the new arrivals, he ended the call and approached a second man.

Mia’s eyes shifted to the stranger, who was sitting at a table and sorting through piles of bags filled with white powder while occasionally writing something down on a piece of paper. By the way the blond man stepped behind him, ready for any instructions, she assumed him to be Don Alberto.

She reined Audrey in and stopped at a respectable distance, waiting to be acknowledged.

Since staring at a drug lord’s possessions seemed like a bad idea, Mia dragged her gaze up to the Don instead. He wore a tailored charcoal-gray suit, had tan skin and appeared to be in his thirties. The messy black hair and five o’clock shadow gave him a certain roguish charm.

Only after he passed the last bag from one side of the table to the other and input one final note did he look up at them. His irises resembled the depths of a black hole, and Mia was instantly drawn to them.

“That is not Lara,” he said.

His expression remained relaxed, but something unnerving lurked just beneath the surface of his dark eyes. The man spoke in a slow, calculated manner, infusing every syllable with importance.

Mia’s jaw tensed, her grip tightening at her prisoner’s arms.

“I know.” She took Audrey a few steps closer to him. “Lara got away from me, but I think this woman here will interest you.”

Alberto brought his hands together on the table. Somehow, the image of him sitting at a shitty metal table on a shitty plastic chair seemed wrong. He belonged somewhere more important.

“What did I hire you to do?”

It wasn’t often that someone made Mia feel like she was back in high school, unprepared on test day. She swallowed. “To find Lara Milbourne.”

“And who is this?”

“... not Lara.”

He nodded. “Tony, parli troppo.”

Mia tensed up at the unknown words, though she recognized the language as Italian. Who was he talking to?

“Sì, capo,” the blond man replied from behind him.

Tony. Okay. She was coming to learn that these men were not fond of introductions.

As a show of honesty, Mia’s eyes did not shy away from Don Alberto’s gaze, but it became increasingly more difficult to sustain its intensity. It hopefully did not come off as a play at dominance.

“I needed to pay off a debt,” Audrey spoke up and Mia held back the urge to cover the woman’s mouth. Her own suggestion from earlier seemed like a bad idea now. “I’m the one that took your drugs, Lara had no hand in this.”

The Don’s gaze shifted on Audrey.

“I can pay you back. With interest, naturally. I just need some time. I also can work for you, free of charge. I’m a law-...”

Don Alberto sat up, and one look was enough to make Audrey’s sentence lose itself into nothingness.

“Pray tell me, who was it you were so afraid of?” He asked as he made his way in front of the table.

Audrey’s lips parted, but no sound came out before they closed again. It was smart not to reply, since the answer wouldn’t have been “The Testas.”

Alberto gestured for Mia to step back from Audrey. Gently, she squeezed the woman’s arms before letting go. Her neck hurt from staying so tense, but at least it was not hers on the block at the moment.

“Where is Lara?” The Don asked.

Confusion flickered on Audrey’s face. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“I will offer you one last opportunity to give me the correct answer.”

“I don’t know.”

Don Alberto nodded, and the goon that led them here came to restrain the lawyer. Mia’s eyes widened before she forced her teeth down on the inside of her cheek, trying to control any expression.

“No, please, I’ll pay you back, I promise!” Audrey pleaded and instinctively looked at Mia for help.

Mia’s gaze shied away. I’m sorry.

“Money isn’t what I asked for. I trust you can understand that my reputation is more important than that.” Then, he said to the two men, “Due dita, così impara.”

With a, “Sì, capo,” the untitled goon dragged a terrified Audrey to a second, smaller table and sat her on a chair, deaf to her pleadings and promises. Then he pinned her right arm onto its surface.

Tony came on the opposite side, a butcher’s knife glinting in the dim light.

“Keep still,” he said, using the blunt of the blade to separate the index and middle fingers from the others. “You don’t want me to cut anything I shouldn’t.”

Audrey just stared at him, until Tony held out a square piece of wood. “I advise you to bite on that.”

“Wait!” Audrey yelled.

The boss lifted a hand in the air and her hand was released. Audrey cradled it to her chest, but Tony’s preparations did not halt. He slowly moved the flame of a lighter along the blade, back and forward, deep in concentration.

The woman shook as she watched, transfixed, then her gaze snapped to Alberto Testa.

Mia held her breath. After that entire scene in the woods, Audrey wouldn’t…

“The Whitt’s! She’s at the Whitt’s house! Richard Whitt, in Stawford. Please, let me go.”

She must be lying.

For the first time, Don Alberto smiled. “Allow her the choice.”

“P-Please, please, don’t… I told you where she is, just let me go,” she cried, struggling against the stronger man’s grip.

Tony snapped the lighter shut. “Your hand or two fingers of your choice. I don’t have all day.”

Audrey sobbed as she shakily replaced her right arm with the left, offering her pinky and ring finger. The knife rose, and Audrey stuffed the piece of wood into her mouth, gripping it with her baring teeth as her eyes shut.

Bile rose in Mia’s throat. She forced herself to watch.

With no warning, the blade sank to the table, clean-cutting the two fingers with a wet chopping sound. A delayed scream reached inside of Mia and squeezed her lungs until she lost her breath.

The girl tried to kick, but her nightgown held back the already feeble blows. Her next attempt was to bite at the men’s arms, resulting in her face being grabbed hard.

“Where’s my mom?” she demanded, her small voice as intimidating as she could manage.

It confused one of the men, and he released her cheeks. The other pushed ahead, saying something she couldn’t understand to the first. He was annoyed.

“We’ll help you find her, if you help us find your dads.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to keep the gag going, but it was soon clear neither would buy it any longer.

“They’re at work.”

Mia was eleven, but looked younger in her pajamas, and her hair in two simple braids.

They shouldn’t have expected much information from her, but the one with a stench of liquor didn’t seem to care for her vagueness. He grabbed her hand, his thumb and pointer pinching at the base of her middle finger.

“I won’t listen to your shit, do you want to lose y-“

“If you keep being difficult, we’ll just take you with us,” the ‘kinder’ man spoke up.

That scared Mia more. The man let go of her hand and she wiped away her tears. This was why daddy didn’t want to leave her alone, no matter how secluded this house was.

“If I tell you, I get to stay home?”

The drunk man smiled wide, nodding unevenly.

“I don’t want to be in trouble, I didn’t do anything,” she further reduced to tears, “and you’ll tell them to come home right after?”

The men agreed to all of her demands. Then she proceeded to lie through her teeth—because that’s what you do.

Alberto’s voice pulled her back from the long-lost memory.

“Take her from here and throw her to the curb.” The boss wasstill appeared unbothered, speaking in the same calm manner as when they had first stepped in.

A pitiful wail filled the room as Audrey cried, hunched over on the chair and gripping her mutilated hand, staring as herthe blood oozed out, and leakinged out from between her fingers. The red liquid flowed down on her elbow and dripped on the already stained pavement.

The woman was tossed a rag for her bleeding stumps before the two men grabbed her arms. As they dragged her away, Audrey looked behind and reached for her severed fingers. She could only grab one before she was too far away, while the other slowly rolled across the table and landed on the floor. The woman kept throwing desperate glances behind while she was being led further and further away from a piece of body that was once connected to hers.

“What are you waiting for?”

Mia tore her gaze away from the severed finger.

“I hope your deliverying skills are better than your interrogation techniques.”

Mia nodded hard, eyes falling on Audrey’s finger one last time before she turned around and rushed out of the warehouse.

The hot air hit Mia’s face again, and she stumbled, palm hitting the metal building just before she retched onto the gravel. For one moment she could breathe, but the next, the sound of cutting through flesh and bone forced her throat to tighten. She dry-heaved. Every time she thought she could stop, it happened again, and she dropped closer to the ground until her knees reached her chest.

She forced herself to take deep breaths, and it wasn't until five that she could get her mind to clear. Six. Seven. Eight. Mia stood up on shaky legs, leaning her shoulder against the wall. Nine. She managed a deeper breath. Ten.

If she was making anyone proud right now, it was Dr. Hall—as long as she kept some minor details to herself.

It was simple to find the address once she returned to the van, so Mia rushed back on the road. Though, there was no way Lara would be at the Whitt’s. Audrey gave up the address way too fast.

Mia merged onto the highway, planning how she would break the news to the Don.

“Looks like both of our interrogation skills could use some work.”

Maybe it would just be safer to run away; Alaska sounded nice.

***

Mia's hands suddenly tensed on the steering wheel as she jerked her head up. She could barely keep her eyes open. It was 12:20; only two hours left until she would reach the Whitt's residence, but that had been the third time she nodded to sleep.

An exit sign flashed by, whispering the promise of a motel in her ear and tugging her wrist to turn the wheel.

She could still finish this job with time to spare, if all went smoothly, but by now she had learned to never put faith in anything being predictable. There'd be time for proper sleep once this was all done.

The next time Mia jerked up her head, she faced trees. Not the road. She swerved left, and suddenly there was a pull against the rear of her van—Mia stomped on the gas when she realized she was dipping into a ditch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” She cursed as she over corrected, fishtailing on the highway until she had straightened back onto the tar. Had the street not been empty, she might’ve been a dead woman right now.

She merged off the highway next and found a place to park.

Mia’s heart pounded in her chest. Sleep. She needed sleep. A two-hour nap wouldn’t be the end of her career, but dying would. She turned off the engine, leaned her seat back, and covered up with a jacket. Despite the adrenaline, Mia was out in a minute flat.

When the alarm woke her up, she started the drive again.

***

The electric blue motorcycle was right there, in front of a faint yellow house, with white trim and fencing. Mia’s mouth hung slightly open as she drove past at a snail’s pace. Luckily, the streets were empty.

That was it. That was Lara’s bike, parked in clear view, right at the address Audrey gave up.

Mia almost laughed at the thought: she could have accidentally come across Lara—after all of this searching.

After parking another block down, Mia did a brief research on Richard Whitt. He was an accountant, but she found nothing about what kind of relationship he might’ve had with the fugitive drug dealer. Mia typed Samantha Whitt into the search bar next and immediately deleted it.

She only needed to go in, grab Lara, and leave.

She left the van and backtracked on foot to scope out the front of the house. Lara’s bike was the only vehicle home, and she had spotted no movement through the windows. It was approaching 5; she had to make this quick, before every family and their dog got home from work, so she slipped into the backyard.

It was empty other than an old swing set, one ready to collapse. The lawn hadn’t been mowed in a while.

On her path to the back door to the house, Mia froze next to an ajar window. That was suspicious. Was Lara somehow expecting her, and this was some sort of trap? Maybe Audrey spiked her paranoia.

Either way, she climbed through.

Her boot creaked the wooden floor of a living room, making Mia’s heart leap from her chest. A fireplace crackled, and after Mia confirmed she was not being attacked, she walked over to study the pictures sitting on the ledge above of a mom, dad, and blonde daughter. Samantha. Fuck.

There was only one door closed on the ground floor, and light peeked from the gap underneath.

Fuck, okay. She’s in there—they’re in there.

Mia adjusted her beanie, tucking any potentially annoying hairs under its brim. She had one more chance not to fuck this up, and she wouldn’t let any feelings get in her way.

First, she stalked up to the door, pressing her back against the wall adjacent. Second, she listened. There was talking; at least two people inside. Mia bit her lip, picking at its skin. She had to go in still. Third, she gripped her gun. Her other hand readied on the door handle.

Two, one-

Mia shoved the door open, Glock pointing at the first person she saw. Her stance was strong, grip tight, eyes focused. Everything was structured, only to crumble as the scene she interrupted struck her chest.