I couldn’t close my eyes all night. The walls of the safehouse were thin, but my thoughts were thinner, too fragile to hold anything but the weight of what I’d overheard. My father’s voice echoed in my memory, though I’d never actually heard him say those words. He offered her. Dante’s words had carved it deep into me, like a blade.

The Russians didn’t just want leverage. They wanted me. Because my father had put me on the table like collateral.

I wanted to scream. To break something. To claw the truth out of Dante until he bled for it. But instead I sat on that damn couch, motionless, staring...