Chapter 8 · Blood in the Champagne

The engagement party starts in twenty minutes and I can't get the glove on my left hand.

My fingers won't stop shaking. The white silk keeps bunching at the knuckles. I yank it off and try again. Third time. Fourth.

"Miss Cash." One of Locke's security guys stands in the doorway. Not Rafe. Someone new. Older. "Mr. Gates sent me to escort you downstairs."

"Tell him I need five more minutes."

"He said now."

I shove the glove on. It goes up crooked but I don't care anymore. The dress they picked is white too. Silk. Off the shoulder. Makes me look like I'm walking into a wedding instead of a cage. I check the drawer one more time. The burner phone the anonymous text mentioned is gone. Locke must've found it after the shooting last night.

Downstairs the ballroom is full of people who want me dead.

I can feel it the second I step through the double doors. Every face turns. Every conversation stops. The chandelier overhead is too bright. Makes the room look like an operating theater. Locke is at the far end near the bar talking to a man in a dark suit.