Page 129 of Ghost Hunted

“That’s okay; you don’t need to get it.” He leads me through the house, and I spot a number of black holes milling around, chatting in a surprisingly relaxed way, many, but not all of them, wearing masks. And then, in a corner…

One of the black holes takes his mask off, wiping the sweat on his face, and my mouth drops.

Although I only see him upside-down, hanging over my black hole captor’s shoulder, I’d recognize him anywhere.

He’s in the mafia. Or was. A henchman of Coltello’s, and I have no doubt he remained loyal to him when the latter betrayed Moretti. And when Coltello was in that hospital, the morning I gave birth to Aurora… he was there. He was there, and he must have been thinking the same murderous thoughts as Coltello.

“What the fuck?”

The mobster turns slowly to me, a leering grin on his face. “Got her at last, huh, Archie?”

Before I can push through my surprise to find an answer, my black hole carries me to the room beyond, a sparsely-decorated space. In fact, there are only two objects inside: a wooden chair and, on the other side of the room… a bazooka.

“What the fuck?” I say again. “Is that why you want me dead? Did the mafia make you do it?”

“The mafia didn’t make us do anything,” he answers in his slow way. “There is no mafia anymore. Only the Puicin Gang.”

I frown. “But that man… he’s in the mafia.”

“Was. He joined us, like the others did. They needed protection from Devil. People turn to us when they need protection.”

“I see.” I don’t really see, even though his words bring back vague memories, conversations that seem to belong to another life. “What are you doing?”

He’s just set me down on the chair, and now, he makes dotted lines around my ankles with his sharpie. He doesn’t answer my question, instead stretching my still-cuffed arms behind my back and tying them to the chair as well. Then he secures each of my feet to a chair leg.

“Are you going to kill me with that bazooka? Is that what this is about? What are you doing to my feet? What are those dotted lines?”

I keep up a flow of questions, wriggling desperately to try to free myself of my bonds, but they’re far too tight. At last I give up, panting.

He takes a few steps back. “You may leave this house with your life,” he says at last, his voice reaching me slightly muffled from behind his pitch-black mask. “But you will not leave it with your feet.”

“Oh.” I swallow nervously. “Okay, then.”

Moments later, another biker enters, gesturing at a clock on the wall. “You have an hour,” he drones.

“Uh… to do what?” I try to wriggle out of my bonds again, but there’s just no way I’ll be able to free myself.

“To make a decision.”

“What kind of decision? And what have you done with Jane?”

The black hole who took me now eats up the distance between us. “She’s alive. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done with her. All that matters is that you have a decision to make.”

I’m starting to guess at what that decision will be. And I don’t want to make it. I can’t.

But what if I don’t have to? What if Logan saves me?

No. He thinks I ran. He’s furious with me. Maybe he’s hunting me down with his gun. Maybe he’ll kill me if he finds me. Or lock me away in his cage. Isn’t that what he does when I try to escape?

I hang my head down, trying not to show them the signs of my suffering.

Maybe I can save myself.

That seems even less likely, but I have to try. Especially if the only alternative is… making that decision.

“Why did you take Jane?” I insist, before he can speak again.

The bikers exchange a glance, before my captor says, “Your father is indebted to me. I gave him eighteen years to pay. The payment is now overdue.”