Chapter 38 · Death from Above

The machine gun on the crane racked a round, and our crushed hull rang like a church bell.

"Don't move." Lucian had one hand clamped under his ribs. Blood ran between his fingers, black in the firelight. Every breath he took whistled. "Bianca. Look at me."

I wasn't looking at him. I was looking at the cage.

It hung off the crane hook sixty feet up, swinging over the tank farm. Orange light licked the bars. Inside it, a small shape in a college hoodie gripped the wire with both hands.

Mia.

"Lucian!" Silvio's voice boomed over the harbor tannoy, warm and fatherly, like he was toasting at a wedding. "Walk out. Alone. Hands up. Or my niece takes a swim in diesel and I light the match."

"He's lying," I said. "He'll shoot you and drop her anyway."

"Probably." Lucian coughed. Red foam on his lip. He wiped it on his sleeve like it was nothing. "So we make him wait."

"We?"