CHAPTER 12
ARIANA POV
The low hum of the elevator was the only sound in the narrow car that vibrated right through the soles of my boots.
I stood with my back pressed against the mirrored wall, watching Enzo's broad shoulders and wondering if he ever got tired of playing the role of a glorified, well-dressed gargoyle.
He didn't look back at me, and honestly, he didn't have to; we both knew I wasn't going anywhere unless I developed the ability to phase through solid metal or felt like testing the terminal velocity of a human body.
Damian's words were still looping in my head like a glitchy, scratched recording. "Men like Marco don't stop hunting." The bastard really knew how to ruin a perfectly good kidnapping with a side of existential dread.
"You can run," he had told me, "You can change cities, burn apartments, erase names, and pretend you're still a ghost. But eventually, if you don't take charge of the situation, Marco will find you."
