I sat quietly for a moment as puzzle pieces fit together in my mind. So that’s why I had been forced to sign a nondisclosure agreement before I was released from jail. I immediately recalled my conversation with Kris and Vlad when I told them about my encounter with the woman from the jail. Should I tell Drake that I had already let some information slip to my friends? What kind of danger were they in now because I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut?

Before my thoughts could race any further, Drake handed me back my phone. I noticed there were numerous missed calls and texts from Vlad and Kris, as well as from Adrian—who was, thankfully, fine and had been released immediately after I’d been whisked away. I was forced to reply to all of them and tell them I was fine, not to worry, that it had been a misunderstanding about the terms of my release from jail.

I hated lying. But I had no other choice. The last thing I wanted was to put anyone’s life in danger. Looking down at my phone as the messages of relief flooded in from Adrian, Vlad, and Kris, I saw another name farther down the screen. Carlo.

My dream. His voice mail. I had to know.

“What about Carlo?” I fixed my eyes on Drake and noticed that his expression faltered a little. “Was he killed because of me?” My voice barely sounded like my own; I could hardly spit out the question because I was so afraid of the answer, which I knew in my gut.

“Lord Ferraro—yes, he had discovered who you were when the Faction tried to get to you through him.” Drake’s voice leveled as he said this, making no effort to deliver the information less harshly. “He had hoped to escape with you, but they found out and killed him.”

My stomach dropped. My worst fear was realized. I felt icy cold, but I had to press further. “What about Bryan? Was his death an accident—was it really a car accident, like it was in my dream?”

The look on Drake’s face said it all. “We believe he was killed by the same people who killed Carlo. They had meant to kill you.” Drake inclined his head to one side, a questioning look on his face. “But what do you mean ‘like it was in my dream’?”

“I had a weird dream where I met both of them. I heard Carlo being tortured, but—” I swallowed hard. This was too much to handle, but I forced myself to get it out. “But with Bryan, I was there, riding shotgun, while he kept on driving faster, no matter how many times I told him to stop.”