After I call her a snake, Siobhan flinches as if I just slapped her. Tears stream down my former friend's guilt-ridden face, and she looks on at me in honest despair.

"I know I'm a horrible person," she admits. "But please, Sandra, don't hate me."

I stare at her for a long moment, my fury slowly giving way to pity. She did make a terrible mistake, but she is clearly remorseful. At least she came here to tell me.

"I... don't hate you, Siobhan," I say reluctantly, my voice softening against my will.

And it's the truth. I don't fucking know what I'm feeling right now, but it's not hate. "I'm just very angry, and very disappointed. I'm sorry for saying this but... I think I'm never going to be able to forgive you for what you did."

"I understand." Siobhan fists the tears out of her eyes and sniffles. "I jus' want ye to know that what made me change me mind was... The fact that I never wanted to see you grieve fer Liam the way I grieve fer Nico now. I don't want ye to have to feel the weight of such an unbearable burden of loss."

So I was right. Liam is being set up to fail. All that story he gobbled up about him being the best assassin Kieran ever had, the most talented hitman... it was just an ego boost.

A bait that Liam was meant to take, and he did.

I have to get to him before he attempts to kill Matteo.

But how? Connor was told to merely circle the limo around downtown Dublin and I'm to wait for Liam's call once the deed is done.

Neither of us knows the exact location.

"Where is he, Siobhan?" I whisper, my throat strangely dry.

"I don't know where Liam is, exactly. But the target is at Antica Venezia restaurant tonight. It's an Italian mafia front. Their don owns the place."

For a brief moment I wonder whether I should trust Siobhan. But he's my only chance of saving Liam. And I have to take it.

I frantically type the name of the restaurant into the search bar of my Google Maps app. The phone falls out of my hands twice, that's how much they're shaking, before the numbers and words of the unfamiliar address pop up.

"Connor," I say with a firm and decisive tone.

Hell, I've mustered up all the courage I've got.

The new driver turns to look at me, his gray nondescript eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

"Take me to 97 Ashfield Road, please."

He nods silently, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he pulls the limo out of traffic and into the direction of my request.

When we reach the first red traffic light, I turn to Siobhan.

"This is your stop," I say, the ice in my voice surprising even me.

Her eyes widen. "Sandra," she begins. "You can't really be thinking of going..."

"It doesn't matter what I'm thinking. What matters is that you are getting out of this car. Now."

Siobhan opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off methodically before she can speak up.

"I am very grateful for the information you just gave me. But like I said, I'm never going to forgive you for what you did."

I couldn't have been more clearer and the message gets through. Siobhan doesn't say a word. She simply nods and opens the car door.

As the door slams shut, and she steps out onto the snowflake-covered sidewalk, I turn my full attention back to Connor.

"Just drive," I say curtly. "Fast."

He nods again, and the car accelerates forth, leaving my former friend standing alone on the curb.

***

The limousine comes to a halt in front of a classic Italian restaurant. The white letters Antica Venezia shine boldly across the bright red surface. It's a quaint little place, and it seems quite costly.

It's located in a historic building, with large windows that overlook the street. The exterior is made of brick and stone and it has a wrought-iron awning over the entrance.

The windows are all steamed up, and the smell of garlic and simmering tomato sauce wafts out into the chilly night air.

I nod at Connor, which he takes as a signal to drive off, as soon as I step out of the car.

All my senses are now assaulted by the biting cold of the winter wind. The snow has started falling in thick, heavy flakes, and the pavement is slick and icy.

I look up at the restaurant facade covered in ivy and twinkling lights. It's a beautiful building, with a sophisticated and elegant feel, but it's also a little bit creepy. There's just something about the way it's shrouded in darkness and the way the snow is falling so heavily that makes it seem like it's hiding something.

I need to see if Liam is inside. Perhaps he ordered dinner and is biding his time? Waiting for Matteo to show up so he can single him out somehow?

I push open the door, and I'm immediately greeted by the warm, inviting aroma. The interior is dimly lit, with amber lights casting a cozy, romantic glow over the dining room. The walls, featuring Italian artwork, are lined with shelves filled with bottles of wine. The tables are placed close together, creating a sense of intimacy, set with red and white checkered tablecloths and silverware.

There's a bar along one side of the room, and a few people are sitting at it, sipping their drinks and chatting. I scan the surroundings, looking for any sign of Liam.

I don't see him, but I do see a man sitting in a booth in the corner, his back to me. He's tall and dark-haired, and he's wearing a leather jacket. He looks like he could be Liam, but I can't be sure.

I take a step towards the booth, but then I stop.

What the hell are you doing, Alex?

I don't want to barge in on someone's private conversation.

I stand there for a few minutes, waiting for the man to turn around. But he doesn't.

He just sits there, hunched over his drink, not paying any attention to the world around him.

So I take a few steps closer. As if sensing my eyes on him, the guy turns around and maroon eyes bear into mine.

Not Liam.

A waitress chooses that precise moment to approach me with a warm smile, her eyes scanning the empty space beside me.

"Would you like a table?" She asks politely, her voice as smooth as honey.

I shake my head, my eyes refusing to meet hers. "No thank you."

The woman nods, a hint of surprise and disappointment flickering across her face.

My eyes scan the room one last time. There's no sign of Liam, and my heart sinks with each passing moment.

Perhaps he's sitting in wait outside?

As I step back out into the cold, realizing how foolish this was, I can't help but feel a pang of despair.

Dammit, I'm running out of places to look for Liam. I don't know where else he could be.

I frantically try his number, even if the deal was that he would call me once the job is done. But all I get is a message: I'm sorry, the number you have reached is not in service, or it is temporarily disconnected.

I pace left and right in front of the restaurant, my eyes half-closed, trying to block out the images of Liam being captured, tortured, or killed. But they keep coming at me anyway, flashing before my eyes like a terrifying slide show.

I don't know what we're gonna do if we survive the night, but the face off with Kieran now seems imminent. My father is much more astute than I gave him credit for. God, he's been ahead of us for weeks now.

I have to find Liam. I have to save him. I have to tell him everything before it's too late.

My heart leaps into my throat as I spot a flicker of movement in a first-floor window of the abandoned dwelling across the street. I'm pretty sure I've just seen someone standing there, silhouetted against the fading light of the street lamp.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble it out to see a missed call from Liam.

A surge of hope rises within me. Maybe he saw me through the window!

Perhaps he's in there.

Without hesitation, I dash across the street, my heels crunching on the icy pavement. I run up to the place, swallowing hard, trying to dislodge the lump that's formed in my throat. The front door is boarded up, but I spot a broken window on the side of the building.

I climb through the window, shards of glass cutting into my hands and arms. I don't fucking care about the pain or the scratches. I just really need to find Liam. He needs to know.

As I stumble inside, my eyes slowly adjust to the darkness.

Ew. The place is super filthy and decrepit, with graffiti covering the walls and debris scattered everywhere.

I think of calling out Liam's name but I realize that would be reckless and stupid. I simply have to get to the first floor.

There is a faint noise from above and I follow the sound up a rickety staircase, my breath catching in my throat with every step I make.

At the top of the stairs, I find Liam, in a small, cluttered, empty studio. He's covered in dust and grime, standing behind a carefully mounted sniper rifle. His eyes are zoned in on the windows of the restaurant across the street. He is so focused, so determined that it's scary.

He turns around with a wary smile. "Alex. I saw you enter the restaurant, then exit it. That's why I gave you a missed call. Is there something wrong, lass? Why are ye here? This wasn't a deal we had. Yer supposed to be in the limo, with Connor."

I run to Liam fucking Cavanaugh, my heart overflowing with relief. I collapse to my knees beside him, taking him in my arms.

"Liam," I cry, my voice trembling. "Oh god, Liam. I'm so glad I found you on time."

He's okay. And that's all that matters.

I run my fingers through his raven locks, reveling in their softness. As he pulls me into a tender, comforting embrace, I rub my face against the familiar coarseness of his five-o-clock shadow stubble, inhaling his briny scent. I feel his heart beating like crazy underneath his hot, flushed skin, pumping blood through his arteries and veins.

It thumps-a-thumps in a precious rhythm of life.

He's alive. He's alive.

Liam looks up at me, his gaze filled with wonder and admiration. He reaches out and buries his lips gently into my neck, teasingly grabbing my butt cheeks.

"Alexandra Martinaj," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "What a delightful surprise. I had not expected the office visit, but I can't say I'm not pleased with it, with you showing up at work," Liam teases, trying to diffuse the tension.

I pull him into a tight hug, holding him close. I'm so relieved that he's safe. Relieved to feel him close.

Liam cups my chin, making me face him. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" "Everything's wrong, Liam. This is a trap. A setup."

"What do you mean?" He approaches the sniper, keeping his eyes fixed on the restaurant entrance, as if checking if his victim showed up already.

But at least his finger doesn't hover over the trigger.

He turns around to face me. "Tell me what ye know, sweetheart."

"Kieran set you up to fail."

"What in the blazes are ye talking about?"

"When he came to your mansion on Christmas Day, to give you the job, to give you this mission to kill Matteo... He didn't want you to succeed. He knows everything, Liam. He knows you are planning to betray him. This is his way of sending you to your death."

Liam's eyes widen in shock. "What? That's not possible. He wouldn't do that. He always tells me I'm like a son to him. I thought it was a ..."

"A perfect cover, yes." I'm getting impatient. "But a lot has changed between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. On the night when Nico died... he found out something very important."

"What?" Liam asked.

"He knows I'm Zerina's daughter. And that it was me who tried to save her. Siobhan told him."

His face pales. "No. No way? Why the hell did she do that?"

"Because she... she blames us for Nico's death. Siobhan confessed everything to me not even fifteen minutes ago. She feels remorseful about what she did and she... Felt like she owed me for the time when we were trapped together in that shipping container. She told me she thought I should never feel the pain of losing someone I... Someone I care about very much." I swallow.

"I get it." Liam nods vehemently, grabbing my hands. He winces as he sees cuts and scars, and passes his thumb across them with the utmost tenderness. "When did you..."

"While I was entering this place. There's no time, Liam. We have to leave immediately. We have to..."

"Well, well, well. Lookie here, ragazzi. Congratulazioni, I have to say." A cold, shrill voice coming from the doorstep envelops us fully. "Your little ragazza figured it all out. She pieced the puzzle together faster than I thought possible." That sleek dark hair. Those mocking sapphire eyes.

It's Matteo. And he's not alone.

Around a dozen or so Italian mobsters, armed to the teeth, leer behind him.

Liam instinctively scans the room, looking for the exits but I already know there are none. They have us right where they want us.

Matteo seems to know that too, as he tuts and shakes his head. "No way out for you this time around, Liam Cavanaugh. Tell me, what did you do to piss off your big bad Captain? Two months ago he came to me with a proposal I could not hope for in my wildest dreams, capisci?"

"What proposal?" Liam spits at him, clenching his fists, but I know he's just trying to bide some time.

"You see, he offers me your head on a platter, the head of his right hand, no less, if I sign an agreement to not interfere in his little dock-running drug empire. It was a no-brainer, I must say. Especially after the damage you did to my human-trafficking business." Matteo's cat-like eyes are now mere slits, gleaming deadly in the dusty darkness.

"The job was a lie," I mutter into my chin, but Matteo catches the words.

"It was, cara mia." He leers. "You see, this is a checkmate. Lo scacco matto. We knew exactly where to find you. No moves left to make."

Kieran The Knife Murphy sent Liam into this deadly trap, amidst the Italian mafia turf.

It is indeed a checkmate, and we are once again mere pawns in Kieran's game.

But this pawn is about to become a queen.

"Captain Kieran didn't count on one little thing," I say this part out loud, and step before Liam. I'm fucking shaking like a leaf but I'm determined to see this through.

"Indeed? Veramente? And what one little thing would that be?" Matteo cocks his head at me, as if trying to decide if I'm bluffing or not.

I make use of the moment of confusion to position myself in front of Liam, fully shielding him with my body.

"He didn't count on the presence of his own daughter."