Chapter 6

The morning sun hurt Alya's eyes. She had no idea how she had numbly stumbled back to the greasy dumpster to retrieve her bag last night, nor how she had managed to hail a cab back to the hotel. Her memory had completely fractured the moment she burst through the club's metal doors. Now, she lay in the center of the massive king-sized bed in her suite at the Plaza Hotel. Her body shook violently under the heavy down comforter.

Running barefoot through the freezing Manhattan alleyway had destroyed her immune system. Her skin burned with a fever of 102 degrees, but deep inside her bones, she felt like she was made of ice.

She groaned and forced herself to sit up. Her head pounded with a vicious ache. She reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. Her hand trembled so badly that water sloshed over the rim, soaking the sleeve of her silk pajamas.

She drank the water, the cool liquid soothing her dry, scratchy throat. She leaned back against the pillows. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Dominick Duncan's dead, black eyes staring down at her, his fingers closing around the gold of her pin.

Alya's hand slowly rose, her trembling fingers brushing against the tangled mess at the back of her head. The smooth, cool metal of the hairpin was absent. The confirmation sent a fresh wave of cold dread through her, a feeling far more chilling than the fever. He had it. That monster had the only thing her grandmother had left her.

Alya grabbed her phone from the bedsheets. She found Kenzie's number and hit call.

Kenzie answered on the second ring. "Alya? Oh my god, are you okay? I've been freaking out all night!"

"The hairpin," Alya croaked. Her voice sounded like crushed gravel. "He still has it. Dominick Duncan has my grandmother's hairpin."

Kenzie gasped loudly. "Alya, forget the pin! You are lucky you got out of there alive! Do you know what Dominick Duncan does to people who cross him? He destroys them. He erases them."

"I can't forget it," Alya said, her fingers gripping the phone tight. "It's all I have left of her."

"I will buy you a new one!" Kenzie pleaded, her voice rising in panic. "I will buy you ten Cartier pins! Just stay away from that monster!"

"No," Alya said stubbornly. A wave of dizziness hit her, and she closed her eyes tight. "It's not about the money, Kenzie. It's mine. I have to get it back."

Alya hung up the phone before Kenzie could scream at her again. She threw the covers off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her feet hit the floor, and her knees immediately buckled. She caught herself on the edge of the mattress, breathing heavily.

She forced herself to walk to the bathroom. She gripped the edges of the marble sink and looked in the mirror. She looked awful. Her skin was paper-white, her lips were cracked, and dark purple circles bruised the skin under her eyes.

She turned on the cold tap and splashed freezing water onto her burning face. It didn't help the fever, but it cleared her mind.

A frantic series of knocks echoed through the suite. Alya forced herself up, her trembling hands fumbling with the lock before she pulled the heavy wooden door open. Phoebe, Alya's young assistant, rushed in carrying a white paper bag from a local pharmacy.

"Alya!" Phoebe dropped the bag on the table and ran to the bathroom door. "You look terrible. Get back in bed right now."

Alya let Phoebe guide her back to the mattress. Phoebe popped two strong fever-reducing pills out of a foil pack and handed them to her with fresh water.

Alya swallowed the pills. She grabbed Phoebe's wrist before the assistant could pull away.

"Phoebe, listen to me," Alya said, her voice weak but intense. "I need you to find Dominick Duncan's private address."

Phoebe's eyes went wide with fear. She shook her head rapidly. "Alya, no. That man is a ghost. His private residence is top-secret. Security firms protect that information."

"Everyone has a price in this city," Alya said, her jaw tight. "Call the private investigator we used for the supply chain leak last year. Tell him I don't care what it costs. I need that address today."

Phoebe looked like she wanted to cry, but she nodded and pulled out her phone.

Four hours later, the pills finally broke the worst of the fever. Alya was sweating, but her head felt clearer.

Phoebe walked into the bedroom. She held an iPad against her chest like a shield. She looked sick.

"He found it," Phoebe whispered. She handed the iPad to Alya.

Alya looked at the screen. It showed a satellite image of a massive, sprawling property on the coast of Long Island. The text below read: The Rosewood Estate.

Alya stared at the image of the high, black iron gates surrounding the property. It looked like a fortress. It looked like a prison. She knew going there was dangerous. She knew she was walking straight into the tyrant's territory.

But she thought of the gold pin in his pocket.

Alya pushed the blankets away and stood up. Her legs were shaky, but they held her weight. She walked to the large closet.

"Call a car, Phoebe," Alya said, pulling a heavy, black trench coat off a hanger. "We are going to Long Island."