Letting out a sigh, I head around the bookshop to the back of the building and jog up the steps. It’s quiet now. Thank God. When I get to the top and stick my key in the door, I hear something in the distance that interrupts the quiet and gives me pause.

Racing engine. Thump of loud music.

They’re coming back.

My pulse rockets. I take the key out of the lock when the brakes squeal.

Then I hear something worse. A terrible sound I know too well.

Glass shattering.

Oh God. No, no, no …

Taking the steps two at a time, I race back down and sail around the bookshop to find the sports car speeding off in the opposite direction on the dark street, its red taillights two glowing eyes. And across the road, the boatyard office window is gone. Shattered. Smashed. Glass tinkling from the open window frame onto the sidewalk.

What did Adrian say? An eye for an eye?

Problem is, he took out the wrong one.

It’s like Summers & Co all over again, only this time it feels so much worse, because it—

Wasn’t an accident.

And it’s the boatyard window.

Not some retail object that showcases luxury goods, that can be replaced by the richest man in town with the snap of his fingers. No. The simple warehouse office window through which a big, happy family laughs.

This is personal.

An old man in a truck slows as he sees the damage.

“Hit and run!” I shout.

He pulls over at the curb, confused. I know the feeling. And that’s when I remember the black cat.

Oh no!

I race across the street, holding up my hand to stop another approaching car, and crunch over broken glass, peering into the boatyard offices. I can’t see! There are too many ambient streetlights making too many shadows. My heart’s in my stomach, thinking about the poor animal. Lucky will be devastated if anything bad has happened to it.

One of the shadows shifts—above. On a tall filing cabinet.

Thank God.

I reach through the broken window and coax it into my open arms, snatching the warm body as it tries to lurch past me in a panic. Claws dig into my shoulders, but I don’t care. “I’ve got you,” I tell it, quickly moving to the side alley where it’s less chaotic. “You’re okay. Let’s call your big brother.”

I’m shaking as I pull out my phone and scroll to Lucky. He answers on the first ring, and I bluntly say, “Come back. Adrian broke the front boatyard window and drove away. Call your parents. I’ll call the police. I’ve got your cat.”