The red lights continued to pulse. Flash. Flash. Flash. Each one felt like a physical blow against my chest. The training room was soundproof, but it wasn't silent. I could feel the vibrations of the explosions through the soles of my feet. The heavy, industrial hum of the air filtration system sounded like a beast breathing in the dark.
I was alone.
I sat on the cold concrete floor, my back against the metal table. The handgun Luciano had given me felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I looked at it. The black steel was indifferent to my fear. It didn't care that my hands were shaking. It didn't care that my father had sold me or that my husband was currently fighting for our lives somewhere in the hallway.
"Focus, Siena," I whispered to the empty room. My voice sounded small, like a
