Sera's POV
I punched Phoenix in the face.
My fist connected with his jaw so hard pain shot up my arm. He stumbled backward, more surprised than hurt.
"You're lying!" I screamed. "My dad is fine! He's coming for me!"
Phoenix touched his lip. It was bleeding. "Sera—"
"Don't say my name like you care about me!" I hit him again, this time in the chest. "You're all liars!"
Strong arms grabbed me from behind. Valentino lifted me off my feet like I weighed nothing.
"Let me go!" I kicked and twisted, but he held me tight.
"Calm down," Alexander's voice said from somewhere behind me.
"Calm down?" I laughed, but it came out crazy and broken. "Someone cut off my father's finger and you want me to calm down?"
"We don't know if it's real yet," Nikolai said quickly.
I stopped struggling. "What do you mean?"
Valentino set me down but kept his hands on my shoulders. "Could be fake. Animal blood. Pig finger. Hollywood tricks."
Hope fluttered in my chest like a dying bird. "Really?"
The four men exchanged looks that told me everything I needed to know.
"You're lying to make me feel better," I said.
"We're keeping you alive," Alexander said simply. "That's what matters right now."
"For how long? Until tomorrow night when you have to kill me?"
Another silence. Longer this time.
"We're not going to kill you," Phoenix said, wiping blood from his mouth.
"Then they'll torture my dad to death!"
"Maybe," Valentino said. "Maybe not."
I stared at him. "How can you be so calm about this?"
"Because panic gets people killed," Alexander said. "Clear thinking keeps them alive."
"I can't think clearly! Someone wants me dead and I don't even know why!"
That's when something inside me broke. All the fear and anger I'd been holding back exploded out of me like a dam bursting. I collapsed onto the concrete floor and cried harder than I had since Mom died.
I cried for Dad, who might be getting tortured because of me. I cried for my destroyed flower shop and my normal life that was never coming back. I cried for being so scared and helpless and alone.
When I finally stopped, Nikolai was sitting beside me with a box of tissues.
"Better?" he asked.
I nodded, wiping my face. "Sorry I hit you," I said to Phoenix.
"You hit hard for a flower girl."
"My mom taught me." I blew my nose. "She said a woman should know how to defend herself."
"Smart woman," Valentino said.
"She was. Until someone killed her."
The words came out before I could stop them. I hadn't meant to tell them about Mom's car accident. About how the police said someone cut her brake lines but never found who did it.
"When?" Alexander asked quietly.
"Eight years ago. I was sixteen."
"And your father never found out who did it?"
I shook my head. "He didn't even try. Just said we had to move on. Start fresh. That's when he changed our last name."
The four men were very still, like they were thinking hard about something.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," Alexander said, but his gray eyes looked troubled.
Over the next few hours, they took turns sitting with me. Not asking questions this time, just... being there. Like they were trying to keep me from falling apart completely.
Nikolai told me stories about his childhood in Russia. Funny ones about stealing apples and getting chased by angry shopkeepers. Not scary mob stories like I expected.
Valentino brought me hot soup and actually smiled when I thanked him. A real smile, not the fake ones I'd seen before.
Even Phoenix talked more, asking about my flower shop and how I learned to arrange different kinds of flowers.
Alexander just watched everything with those sharp gray eyes, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.
"Why are you being nice to me?" I finally asked.
"Because you're not what we expected," Alexander said.
"What did you expect?"
"Crying. Begging. Offering us money you don't have."
"Would that work?"
"No," Phoenix said. "But most people try anyway."
"I'm not most people."
"No," Alexander said, leaning forward in his chair. "You're definitely not."
Something in his voice made my stomach flutter in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
That night, I tried to escape again.
This time, I didn't pick the lock. Instead, I broke the window in my makeshift room with the metal water pitcher. The glass cut my hands as I climbed through, but I didn't care.
I made it three blocks before Nikolai caught me.
"Impressive," he said, not even breathing hard. "Most people don't make it past the parking lot."
He bandaged my cut hands in the car on the way back to the warehouse. His touch was surprisingly gentle.
"Why didn't you shoot me?" I asked.
"Because you're worth more to us alive."
"Is that the only reason?"
He was quiet for a long moment. "Ask me again in a week."
Back at the warehouse, Alexander was waiting. He looked angry, but also something else. Something that made my heart beat faster.
"You could have bled to death climbing through that window," he said.
"I could have made it to the police."
"And told them what? That your kidnapping is actually legal debt collection?"
I hadn't thought of that.
"Besides," he continued, "the people who want you dead have connections everywhere. Police. FBI. Maybe even higher."
"Higher than FBI?"
"Government," Phoenix said from the shadows. "Military. People with power."
My blood turned cold. "Why would the government want to kill me?"
"We don't know yet," Alexander said. "But we're going to find out."
He knelt beside my chair and took my bandaged hands in his. His skin was warm and rough with calluses.
"You're not like other victims," he said quietly, his gray eyes staring into mine. "That could be dangerous for both of us."
"What do you mean?"
But before he could answer, every light in the warehouse went out.
Emergency sirens started wailing outside. Car engines roared to life. Men shouted orders in languages I didn't recognize.
"They found us again," Valentino said, his gun already in his hand.
"How?" Nikolai demanded. "This place was supposed to be secure."
Alexander never let go of my hands. "Because someone's been telling them exactly where we are."
In the darkness, I could feel all four men looking at each other with suspicion and fear.
One of them was a traitor.
And I was about to find out which one.