The heavy armored sedan glided silently through the rain-slicked streets of Beacon Hill, moving toward the secure underground parking garage of the Mercer Tower.

Inside the cabin, the tension was suffocating.

Simon sat pressed against the far door, his face pale as paper, staring at Dominic Mercer as if the man were the Devil himself. Dominic didn’t even look at Simon. His dark, unfathomable eyes were locked entirely on me—taking in my soaked hair, the ruined hem of my navy silk dress, and the pale terror on my face.

“You used me as bait,” I whispered, my hands trembling in my lap. The shock of the restaurant shooting was fading, replaced by a cold, searing rage. “You knew Moretti’s men were tracking me. You let me walk into that restaurant so you could draw them out!”

Dominic took a slow, deliberate drag from his cigarette. The orange tip illuminated the small scar near his mouth.

“If I had used you as bait, Norah, Thomas wouldn’t have been sitting in the corner with a silenced weapon,” Dominic said, his voice low and devoid of emotion. “I would have let them take you to Moretti’s warehouse, tracked your phone, and wiped out his entire executive board in one evening.”

“How romantic,” I spat, tears of anger pricking my eyes. “So I should thank you for only sending one assassin to my date?”

“You should thank me for keeping you alive,” Dominic corrected sharply. He flicked a small ash into the built-in silver tray. “Moretti intercepted a partial wire transfer from our offshore account in Nassau yesterday. He realized someone was consolidating the funds. He assumed you were the weak link because you were leaving the office at six o’clock to eat pasta with a high school teacher.”

Simon let out a small, pathetic whimper from the corner. “Look… please… I don’t know anything. I just teach 10th grade European History. I don’t care about accounts or Nassau! Just let me go… please…”

Dominic turned his head slowly, his dark eyes landing on Simon for the first time. The coldness in his gaze was absolute—the look of a apex predator evaluating something insignificant.

“Shut up,” Dominic said quietly.

Simon snapped his mouth shut, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Dominic, leave him alone!” I snapped, placing myself between Dominic and Simon. “He has nothing to do with this! He didn’t see anything, he doesn’t know anything!”

“He saw Thomas execute two men in front of a waiter,” Dominic noted smoothly. “In my world, that makes him a liability.”

“He won’t talk!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “Look at him, Dominic! He’s terrified! He’ll never repeat a word of this to anyone!”

Dominic stared at me for a long, silent moment. The silence inside the car grew so heavy that only the hum of the tires against the wet asphalt could be heard.

“Is he worth it, Norah?” Dominic asked softly.

“What?”

“Is this the ‘ordinary life’ you wanted?” Dominic gestured faintly toward Simon. “A man who cowers in the corner of a car while you stand in front of him? A man who looks at you with horror because he discovered you have dirt under your fingernails?”

The words hit me with devastating accuracy. I looked back at Simon. He wasn’t looking at me with love or concern. He was looking at me with disgust and panic—as if I were part of the filth that had invaded his comfortable, safe world.

“He’s an innocent civilian, Dominic,” I said, my voice dropping into a tired whisper. “Not everyone is built to survive in your bloody house.”

“No,” Dominic agreed softly. “They aren’t.”

The sedan came to a smooth stop inside the private, subterranean garage of the Mercer Tower. The heavy steel blast doors closed behind us, cutting off the sound of the rain.

Thomas Vale opened the car door from the outside.

Dominic leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, looking directly at Simon.

“Mr. Vance,” Dominic said, using Simon’s full last name—a subtle reminder that he already knew where Simon lived, where his parents retired, and where he parked his car every morning. “You will get out of this car. Thomas will drive you home. You will resign from your teaching position at Somerville High tomorrow morning, and you will move to Chicago by the end of the week.”

Simon nodded frantically, trembling violently. “Yes… yes, sir. Chicago. Immediately.”

“If I ever see your name on a police report, a phone bill, or a guest list in the state of Massachusetts,” Dominic added, his voice dropping into a dark register that chilled the air, “I will not send Thomas. I will come myself.”