I was barely conscious when I heard the door creak open. My head throbbed from the effects of the drugs Gavino had pumped into my system, and my body felt heavy, still bound to the chair. But I forced my eyes open, blinking against the dim light as I tried to focus on the figure entering the room.
It was Marshall.
Seeing him sent a jolt of adrenaline through me, cutting through the haze of sedation. He walked in with the confidence of a man who believed he was untouchable, his sharp eyes taking in my weakened state with a flicker of something unreadable. Fear? Pity? Satisfaction? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that the man standing in front of me was dangerous, and whatever he wanted, it wasn’t going to be good for me—or for Nico.
“Grace,” Marshall said, his voice smooth and composed a
