Elijah eyes don't leave my body as I scrape back a chair and sit down.

"Hunter Easton," he says, his rich brown skin dimpling. "You made it."

I don't have time to waste—Jude is waiting for me. I cut right down to it. "They took Daniel and Alisa. Those two—" Strippers might be offensive to him. "Lovers of yours, the ones I saw in the club."

The memory comes back to me: Daniel's hollowed green eyes, his curly black hair. Alisa's red corset and gold fishnet leggings.

"I have the kidnapping on tape," he says, and he slides a phone into the center of the table.

On the screen, I see Daniel and Alisa outside of the club. Daniel is smoking; Alisa is shivering in the cold. In one moment, they are standing—in the next, there is a tall and slender woman with sleek black hair and uptilted eyes, taking each of them down with swift movements.

She is so fast—so sharp—it seems impossible.

An assassin. Mikayla told me she was an assassin.

"She didn't kill them?" I ask carefully, sliding the phone back once the video is done.

"No, she hauled them into a van. We lost track of it."

That leaves us with a problem. We will have to contact the Yakuza in order to get Daniel, Alisa and Alistair back.

Not that it wouldn't be a shame if Alistair didn't come back.

My sister's fiancé was always enough to make me shiver. That oily look in his eyes.

"Do you have any way to reach the Yakuza?" he asks, and I think of Mikayla.

"Yes," I say.

Another thought crosses my mind. Jude's mother.

We both agreed that maybe it wasn't true—maybe I had just imagined it, in the heat of the moment, but . . .

If Jude's mom is alive, I need to ask her.

I need to ask her why.

"Listen," I say. "Here's what we're going to do."

First, I am going to contact the Cai boss.

They are going to tell us what they want in exchange for Daniel, Alisa, and Alistair.

Whatever it is—and it will be money—we give it to them.

They'll want to have an exchange. The money for the hostages. And they'll give us a location—probably an abandoned warehouse—that we can go to.

We are going to meet each other there. Just you and me, Elijah.

No back-up. No ambush. We can't risk it.

Then, once we are there—

"What the hell are you doing?" I bark at Elijah, who has interrupted my well-strategized plan.

He is dialing a number on his phone. He lays it flat on the table, humming. Waiting.

"We're calling Imai Todoroshi," he says.

"Are you kidding me?" I hiss, in the moment before the phone stops ringing.

A beat passes.

Then a soft, silvery voice chuckles. "Hello?"

"Imai," Elijah says smoothly.

"I'm afraid, this doesn't come as a surprise, old friend. I was waiting."

From the pleasant smile on Elijah's face and the bright sparkle of his pink hat, I wouldn't think he is furious. But I see it—the telltale twitch of his jaw.

This isn't going to end well.

"You have what is mine," Elijah says.

"Yes, I'm afraid I do," says the voice, with a fluid laugh. "I do, indeed."

Elijah's fist tightens.

I have never seen him lose control.

But as much as I want to, now is not the time.

Get it together, I mouth.

Elijah stiffens. A waitress is sauntering towards our table, but with a single dark, meaningful look, I send her running the other way.

Sometimes being terrifying is useful. I am a person to be afraid of.

The silvery voice says, "I want 100k in exchange for the four exchanges."

My head snaps up. Four.

"Done," Elijah growls. "Where are they?"

But my thoughts are blurring. Four—Imai Todoroshi said four.

Why did he say four?

There only have Daniel, Alisa and Alistair.

The voice responds, "On a ship sailing to Italy."

"What?" Elijah barks, too loudly.

I feel it as heads in the restaurant swivel to us—alerted to our presence. But I don't care—my mind is racing. My hands shake under the table.

I have a bad, bad feeling about the word four.

It's not possible. I know it's not possible.

"Yes, the ship departed just minutes ago, but don't worry—you'll never make it in time." Imai's voice lets out a chiming laugh. "Meet us at the Sicilian Harbor in two days. Have the 100K ready, will you?"

She's outside. She's right outside.

"Who are the four hostages?" I snarl, grabbing the phone before Elijah can stop me. "Why did you say four?"

Within a beat of silence, I hear it: the numbing tone of static.

He hung up.

He hung up.

But she's right outside. She's—

No, it's not possible.

I jump to my feet, heart pounding so loudly I can't hear anything but the rush of thunder. The shattering of lightning. The unbecoming of rain.

I don't hear it as Elijah's mouth opens.

I don't hear it as I back away, right into a waitress holding coffee.

I don't hear it as I duck through the ringing doors of the French restaurant, the sunlight blinding against my feverish gaze.

Where is she?

Four. Four. Four.

It's not possible—she was right outside—

Not again. Not again.

His voice, whispering, They're on a ship to Italy . . .

Meet us at the Sicilian Harbor in two days.

Don't worry—you'll never make it in time.

No. No, no, no.

Every thought slips out of my head as I stare into the alley. She is not there. My trembling hand removes the phone from my pocket. Dialing her number.

"Hello?"

"Hey," I say, the relief pouring out of me in a rush. "Jude, you're—"

"Hello . . . it's about time you called me. Too bad I'm not at the phone. I'll get back to you later . . . or not. Depends. See you later, Jude."

The voicemail lets out a shrill beep.

I sink to my knees.

>>>

And... we will be returning to Jude soon!

See you later!

From the moon and back,
Sarai