CARA’S POV My head was pounding so hard my vision swam in black patches, and the taste of blood sat heavy and thick on the roof of my mouth.
The plastic zip-ties sawed straight into my wrist as my hands were bound behind my back.
Across from me sat two guys on metal chairs, their gun barrels resting casually against their knees just staring at me.
“You’re not cops,” I rasped out.
One of the mens face twitched an ugly looking scar running down his right eye.
He leaned over, reeking of stale tobacco, and sneered.
“No, sweetheart.
But we own the badges in three counties.
Including your old man’s.” I leaned forward and spat blood right onto the toe of his boot, glaring at him.
He didn’t react.
He pulled out a burner phone instead, pressed it to his ear, and kept his eyes fixed on mine while it rang.
“Setup ready?
Good.” We stopped maybe ten minutes later.
The side door screeched open, and the early morning cold hit my face like an open hand.
There was barely any sunlight, and outside lay slush and granite headstones.
Scarface hauled me out by the back of my shirt, throwing me face-first into three inches of snow.
A knife blade sliced the plastic off my wrists, nicking my thumb in the process.
I barely felt the cut.
The sudden rush of trapped blood back into my fingers hit like hot needles underneath my skin.
I shoved my hands between my thighs, biting down on my lip until I tasted fresh blood just to keep from screaming.
“Get up,” a voice ordered.
An older guy with white hair in a tailored grey wool coat was standing near a tombstone.
I’d never seen his face before in my life.
Beside him on the ground were two small shapes, completely still, their light jackets soaked through with melting snow.
A boy and a girl.
Cold bile burned the back of my throat.
“You don’t know me, I’m Ibarra.” His voice came out flat.
“Your father needed to make it look convincing.
It’s nothing personal.
Clear his tabs with us.” I forced my knees to lock, pushing myself up despite how hard my legs were shaking.
“I don’t know you, and I don’t know who those kids are, but I swear to—” “God?” he cut in, glancing down at a silver watch that looked expensive.
“I don’t care much about him.
Bring the boy.” Footsteps came crunching hard through the treeline, heavy, fast, and unhurried.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” My chest went hollow.
Two men dragged a kid out from behind the trees.
Oversized hoodie, no coat, sneakers leaving drag marks on the snow.
His left cheek was swollen black and blue.
Danny.
“No—no!
Let him go!” The words tore out of my throat, raw and jagged.
“Right now!
Take me!
Just let him go!” “One wrong move,” Ibarra said smoothly, “and he goes in the ground with them.” One of the guards yanked Danny up by his hair, pulling a black handgun with his free hand and shoving the steel barrel right into Danny’s jaw.
Danny caught my eye and instantly clamped his mouth shut, shivering so hard his knees were knocking together.
He was trying not to cry in front of them, his jaw trembling against the cold steel.
An iron shovel slammed into the snow near my feet.
“Dig up the graves and bury the bodies and we’ll let him go,” Ibarra said.
“I don’t trust you,” I said.
“I’m a man of my words.” My hands shook so hard I could barely wrap my fingers around the cold metal handle.
I glanced over at Danny.
The gun barrel was still aimed at his jaw.
I was outgunned and outnumbered seven to one.
He wouldn’t make it two steps before they put a bullet through him especially if i tried to fight back.
I drove the shovel into the frozen earth with a heavy crunch.
Every load of dirt sent a shock straight up my shoulders.
I avoided looking at the dead kids.
Who are they anyway?
My heart raced with how it could have easily been Danny.
How did they get to him?
How long before Aunt Val found us?
And why in the hell am I their grave digger?
My mind raced in frantic circles as I dug with frayed nerves.
I rolled the bodies in once the holes were deep enough, listening to the two heavy, wet thuds against the bottom.
I shoveled the dirt back over them as my arms went numb, my mind disconnecting from my body just to survive the next few minutes.
Hit, lift, throw.
Hit, lift, throw.
“Let him go,” I rasped, finally dropping the shovel.
“It’s done.” Ibarra gave a short nod, and the guard shoved Danny forward.
Danny ran, tripping over headstones until I caught him.
He collapsed into me, his slender frame shaking violently as he sobbed against my neck.
“Isa…
Isa, what’s going on…
Where’s Aunt Val?
I want to go home—” “I’ve got you,” I whispered into his wet red hair, squeezing him against my chest.
“I’ve got you, Danny, I’m right here…” “Starting tonight,” Ibarra cut straight through us, “you work for us.
Or he goes in a hole just like them.
Separate them.” “No—wait!
You promised to leave him out of this.” Two guards grabbed Danny by his arms, ripping him out of my arms and hauling him backward toward an idling white van in the mist.
He stretched his hands out toward me, screaming my name, green eyes wide and bloodshot.
I charged forward, but a rough hand hooked under my arm and dragged me back against a solid frame.
I looked up and it was scarface.
I tried to twist out of his grip, but he pulled out a knife and held it against my throat.
I went still, my eyes watching as the van that had Danny pulled out of the cemetery.
“Don’t move,” he whispered against my ear, and my skin crawled with disgust.
“Fuck you,” I sneered.
I jammed my heel onto his right boot and drove my elbow into his ribs at the same time.
He grunted in pain.
His grip loosened, but the falling blade slashed my right arm.
Blood splattered across the snow as I dropped onto my knees.
Scarface hauled me up by my collar and shoved me face-first into the back of the van that had carried me.
A fraction of a second later, a gunshot cracked outside.