Chapter 7

The call came from Sebastian’s father.

Someone was causing trouble in the old district, and the Ferraro family wanted him to show his face. On Ferraro territory, that was usually enough.

Sebastian parked at the mouth of the alley and went in alone.

He expected a drunk, a dealer, maybe some idiot trying to impress the wrong people. Instead, he turned the corner and saw a gray van with its side door open. A man was trying to shove a teenage girl inside while she clawed at the frame, her shirt torn and one shoe missing near the gutter.

Sebastian crossed the alley without a word.

He hit the man once, hard enough to drop him, then dragged him off the girl and slammed him into a pile of broken bricks. The girl scrambled away and curled against the wall, shaking.

The man groaned and tried to crawl for his phone.

Sebastian stepped on his wrist.

The scream filled the alley.

“You were dragging a girl into a van on Ferraro ground,” Sebastian said. “Give me a reason not to break the other hand.”

“I didn’t touch her,” the man gasped.

Sebastian pressed harder.

“You were going to.”

The man’s face twisted with pain. “Please. I didn’t do anything.”

Sebastian grabbed him by the collar and drove him back into the bricks. Blood ran from the man’s nose, and one eye had started swelling shut.

“Please,” the man choked. “You keep hitting me like this, you’ll kill me.”

Sebastian’s voice stayed cold. “Then talk faster.”

The man stared at him through the blood. Panic finally cut through his bravado.

“You’re doing this because of her, aren’t you?” he spat. “Still holding a grudge after all these years?”

Sebastian went still.

“What did you say?”

The man realized too late that he had said the wrong thing. He tried to shut his mouth, but Sebastian hit him again, not enough to knock him out, only enough to make him understand that silence would hurt more.

“What happened all those years ago?”

The man shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Sebastian leaned closer.

“You know enough to call it a grudge.”

The man’s breathing broke. He looked toward the Ferraro men gathering at the alley entrance, then back at Sebastian.

“That Dunn girl,” he blurted. “Your girl. We dragged her into that alley because you cost us money. There were three of us, and she was alone. We kept her there all night. That was thirteen years ago. I served my time.”

For a second, Sebastian stopped breathing.

Three of us.She was alone.All night.For a second, Sebastian stopped breathing.

Clara Dunn.

The breakup message. The unanswered calls. Her scar. Her fear of the stands. The way she always looked like she was standing half outside her own body.

The truth did not arrive slowly.

It hit all at once.

His fist slammed into the man’s face hard enough to turn his head against the brick. The second punch would have followed if one of his father’s men had not caught his arm.

“Sebastian,” the man warned. “Not here.”

The criminal was still begging, still saying he had paid for it, still trying to live. Sebastian heard none of it.

Clara had not abandoned him.

Something had happened to her.

Something he had never known.

He released the man and stood. Blood and dust covered his knuckles, but he felt nothing as the Ferraro men moved in behind him.

The pieces of thirteen years ago had finally begun to fit together, and every single one was covered in blood.