“They’ve been watching you so carefully,” he continued, resuming his pacing. “Alessia’s jumped in bed with that fucking Russo cunt, and Maria wasn’t an option, so you were my best bet, but I was starting to get worried I’d never get you alone. It was a lucky thing your father forgot to revoke my access to his phone account. I just had to log in to get your cell records—a little software to jumble the signal, and I was able to lure you to the coffee shop with a simple text. With a car in the back alley, getting you here was almost too easy.” He gave me a maniacal grin as he finished.

He’d completely jumped off the deep end. Had he always been this way and simply hidden it? What did he want with me? “Why are you doing this?” My voice shook from fear and the cold. I didn’t want to sound so pathetic, but I didn’t feel capable of much else.

“Because your father’s got half the East Coast after me, the fuckin’ moron. If it wasn’t for the fact that I have to hide inside, I’d be laughing my ass off knowing I’m right under his nose still on Staten Island. You’re my leverage to get out of here with my heart still beating. That reminds me … the phone, I need the phone,” he muttered, patting his pockets. “I’m gonna call Enzo, and I know him—he’ll demand to talk to you. That’s why I had to wait for you to wake up. You tell him you’re fine, but you better not say one damn thing more. I need you alive for now, but that doesn’t mean I need you in one piece—got it?” He glared at me with gray, soulless eyes, then pulled open a thick, sealed door and vanished.

My dad—I was going to get to talk to my dad. Relief and hope made my eyes sting with tears, and my lungs shuddered with the start of sobs, but I quickly pulled myself together. I had to find a way to tell my dad where I was, but how? What could I say to tip him off that I was still on Staten Island without Sal understanding?

Still on Staten Island.

My necklace.

I reached up and lifted the pendant, but before I could work on the clasp, the door began to open. I yanked as hard as I could, ripping the chain from my neck and tucking it in one of my jean pockets.

Sal entered my frozen cell, eyes glued to a disposable phone.

“Uncle Sal, it’s so cold in here. Please, can I have a blanket or something?” This time, I was more than happy to infuse my voice with weakness. I had a plan, and I wanted Sal to see me as totally helpless so he wouldn’t get suspicious.

“It’s hardly on refrigerate, so you’ll be fine. If your father does what he’s supposed to, you’ll be out of here soon enough.” He never looked at me, muttering his response as he fiddled with the phone and some other device he was holding.