I can’t keep my eyes open, but every time I drift off with that leatherbound book on my lap, I dream of Hannah. Hannah and Lucien. I’m running out of time. I need to devise a plan and find some way to get Emma, Hyacinth, and me out of here. I can’t leave Hyacinth behind. I won’t abandon her after all she’s done for us. And I’m sure if I did, the brothers would use her to bait me back. I have cash. I have access to my bank account. And I have the phone. But it’s all useless without a single contact on the outside.

Although, I do have one contact. Lucien. He can get us out and plant us firmly in Sonny Caballero’s control. Sonny hates Amadeo and Bastian, and I know in my gut that he would just use us to get what he wants from them. To hurt them. In that case, isn’t it better to stay here? To trust Amadeo and Bastian?

No. I can’t trust them. They’re not trustworthy, not when it comes to our freedom. They say they want to keep us safe, and while I believe they mean that, being a prisoner is not safe. Especially not when the men holding you have powerful enemies. Emma and I are pawns. We are, as Amadeo very clearly stated what feels like a decade ago, collateral damage. But are we expendable? There is something between the brothers and me. I feel it. I know they do, too. On some level, I do trust them. They won’t hurt us. But as long as we are here, we are not free.

I set the book aside and reach into my bag for the photo I took from the penthouse. The one of Mom and me I found in dad’s desk drawer. He used to have it on top but had put it away at some point. I don’t really remember when that happened.

I haven’t shown it to Emma. I don’t want to upset her. I look at the photo. It’s old, but it’s one of my favorites. She looks happy here. She’s beautiful. She was more than a decade younger than Dad. On the frame, it says “my girls” in fancy cursive lettering.