Chapter 2

The heavy steel door of my cell groans open. Ethan stands there, silhouetted against the dim hallway light.

He yanks me to my feet and drags me up the stairs to his private interrogation room. The room is cold, sterile, and smells of bleach and fear.

He shoves me into a metal chair, my hands cuffed behind my back.

"Who were you working for?" he demands, his voice echoing in the small space. "That night. It wasn't just a gang hit. It was too clean. Who gave the order?"

He' s always suspected something more. He' s not stupid.

But I can't tell him. I can't tell him his "family" were informants for a rival agency, planning to use him as a pawn and then kill him. I can't tell him my DEA team had to take them out to save his life. Knowing that truth would send him on a suicidal path of revenge.

So I stay silent. I just look at him, my face a bloody mess.

My silence infuriates him. "Talk!" he roars, his fist slamming onto the metal table between us.

He turns to the equipment in the corner. I close my eyes, bracing myself. The shocks come in waves, jolting through my body, making my teeth rattle and my muscles seize. Still, I say nothing.

He' s about to start again, his face a storm of frustration and rage, when the door bursts open.

It' s one of Sabrina' s aides, his face pale with panic.

"Boss! It's Sabrina! Her face... it' s swelling up! It' s turning black!"

Ethan freezes. The anger drains from his face, replaced by pure panic. He shoves past the aide and sprints out of the room, leaving me shackled to the chair.

Hours later, he comes back. His face is grim.

He tells me they're at Sabrina' s mansion. A doctor, one on his payroll, is there.

"The doctor says it's a rare poison," Ethan says, his voice dangerously low. "He thinks you coated your fingernails with it before the party. That the cut from the knife was just a delivery system."

It' s a lie. A perfect, vicious lie from Sabrina.

"He has an antidote," Ethan continues, his eyes locking onto mine. "But he needs to test it. To make sure it works."

My blood runs cold. I know what's coming.

His men hold me down. They pry my mouth open. Ethan stands over me, holding a vial of dark liquid.

"Swallow it," he commands.

They pour the "antidote" down my throat. It burns. It' s not an antidote. It' s another poison.

My body convulses. I double over, vomiting blood onto the pristine floor. The dark, thick liquid is a stark contrast to the white tiles.

Ethan looks down at me, his expression hardening. For him, this is proof.

"So it was you," he says, his voice full of disgust. "You really are a monster."

He turns and walks away, leaving me choking on the floor.