Makayla’s question hung in the air between them, the weight of it pressing down on her chest like a vice.
Where’s Mikhail?
Gino didn’t answer right away.
Of course, he didn’t.
Because he wanted her to wait.
Wanted her to feel the silence.
To let it coil around her like a living thing, tightening its grip with every passing second.
And Makayla—
Makayla felt it.
Felt it in the way her pulse pounded at her throat.
In the way the coldness of the chains burned against her skin.
In the way Gino watched her, his gaze as steady as ever, as if he was measuring her reaction before deciding what he would say next.
Then—
Finally—
He spoke.
“He’s safe.”
A simple answer.
Too simple.
Too careful.
Makayla’s hands curled into fists.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Gino’s lips twitched, just
