For a moment, Shaw entertained the idea of a trick: leaving the rope looped loosely around his hand, pulling free, overpowering Matty. That was what North would have done. But before Shaw could put his plan into motion, Matty jerked the rope tight, and then tighter, and then it was too late because the rope was tied. Matty wheeled him out of the bathroom and down the hall.

“Go ahead and sit down,” Matty said, indicating a chair in the living room. When Shaw dropped into the seat, Matty wound the rope around his chest—the mild discomfort of the hemp against Shaw’s wrists became a painful burn against the sensitive skin of his chest and stomach—and then Matty tied another knot. He dragged the coffee table to a spot in front of Shaw and sat, stretching out his long legs, the knife dangling from one hand. He was smiling.

Shaw watched that smile. It wasn’t the shy, tentative expression he had associated with Matty, but then, nothing about Matty really reminded him of Matty: his posture was different—relaxed, confident—the way he held his head was different—a cocky tilt like he was looking down his nose at the world—even the eyes seemed different. Still that stunning shade, amethyst or sapphire depending on how the light hit, but in a cheap, costume jewelry kind of way. The smile, the shoulders, the tilt of his head, the eyes. This was the truth, and all the rest of it had been a lie.

Letting out a slow breath, Shaw tested the tension in the rope around his chest. It shifted up along the chair’s wooden frame. Part of his mind knew he should be trying to plan an escape—a distraction, something to divert Matty’s attention—but he couldn’t stay focused. Questions whirled through his head. His brain would settle on one, and then he’d try to force the question away, and they’d all spin around again. Why Shaw and North? That was one question. How long had he been planning this? That was another. And then deeper questions, the kind that had riven Shaw to the core, the kind that sounded childlike and so painfully pathetic and were still totally impossible for Shaw to escape. How could you do this to me? That was one.

“North thinks you’re really smart,” Matty said. “Lots of guys in the city do, actually. The ones that have hired you, they all say how smart you are. Teddi talked about it a lot, and that’s how Mark heard it. That’s how I heard it—Teddi to Mark, Mark to me. Even back then, before things went wrong with Mark, I knew you’d be useful one day.”

Matty paused. He cocked his head a little more. His smile sharpened to a grin.

Shaw was still cycling through questions. He settled on: “Are you going to kill me?”

“That’s not what you really care about.” Matty settled the point of the knife on Shaw’s cheek and gently forced his head to the side. “Ask me what you really want to ask me.”