Right before the engine started, she’d heard the Sultan’s voice. He was on board too. Good.

  Her fingers tightened on the dagger she taken from the girl earlier. Her path was clear. She was meant to kill the Sultan. That was more important than her escape.

  If she killed him, she would save countless lives. He would no longer buy girls to sacrifice. He was pure evil. If her last act on earth was taking him out, it would have been a good life.

  For a split second, her father’s face flashed before her, and Rose emitted a small sob.

  No! I cannot be weak. I cannot think of those I love.

  It was time to think of those she hated instead.

  Above the sound of the engine, she heard a sound that filled her with hope. It sounded like sirens.

  Suddenly, the engine was killed and the boat stopped. It was sirens. And they were growing louder. Creeping out of the shower, Rose stood by the bathroom door, cracking it.

  She heard shouting.

  There was an argument.

  And then there were gunshots. She jumped back into the bathroom, heart pounding.

  There was more shouting.

  It sounded like complete chaos on the deck. Now was the time for her to make her move.

  She stepped out of the bathroom. The living room and bedroom were empty. She crept quickly toward the stairs, the hand holding the dagger trembling.

  Somebody or something thudded into the closed hatch door above her. She pressed herself to the wall and waited, but the door remained closed. She hit the switch, turning off all the lights in the cabin and then waited.

  A few seconds later, she heard more shouting followed by gunshots.

  At the top of the stairs, she pushed on the hatch, cracking it a few inches. There was the sound of squeaking pulleys and heavy breathing. She froze, listening, eyes straining to see anything on the deck. She saw shadowy figures moving around but couldn’t tell what they were doing.

  “Get the Sultan in the lifeboat,” she heard a voice say. It was Aldo.

  “No,” the Sultan said. “We will kill the police.”

  The Sultan was going to escape.

  Then there was more shouting and more gunfire.

  Rose pushed the hatch open more and squeezed out, scrambling on all fours in the dark to take shelter behind a nearby seat. She nearly screamed as she touched something wet and looked down to see a dead body on the deck beside her. It was a man in a police uniform whose eyes stared ahead at nothing. She scanned the area nearby.

  It looked like everyone else was at the other end of the boat. Then she saw him. The Sultan.

  She only had a few seconds to use the element of surprise. Once they realized she was on board, she would be captured and killed. Now was her chance to take out the Sultan.

  She gauged the distance between her and the Sultan’s broad back. She could throw the knife, aiming for the back of his thick neck. If her aim was true and the throw hard enough, she could kill him and then jump overboard. It was feasible. She’d been working on her knife throwing skills for the past year. She was pretty good.

  But pretty good might not be enough.

  Her best bet was to sneak closer and either throw the knife from a shorter distance or race over and plunge the blade into his neck from up close. He was tall, though. Maybe too tall for her reach.

  All of this flashed through her mind in seconds.

  And then she sprang to her feet and raced toward the Sultan. When she grew close enough, she used the surface of a deck chair to launch herself into the air.

  With a blood curdling scream meant to startle all of them, she landed on the Sultan’s back. She wrapped her legs around his waist and slung one arm wrapped around his head. With the other arm, she reached to the front with the blade to slice his thick throat wide open.

  But the handle of the blade broke off in her hand, and the sharp edge dropped uselessly to the ground.

  She let go of the Sultan, sliding to the ground and darted toward the edge of the boat.

  In one graceful movement, she flung herself into a police boat moored to the yacht. But Aldo was right behind her. He grabbed her and knocked her head against the side of the boat. For a few seconds, she only saw black. She felt her arms being yanked behind her. She began to struggle, but it was too late

  “Miss?” It was the detective. She was sitting in Lane’s living room. The detective shared that Lane’s most recent journal entry had laid out her elaborate plan to kill Nico and then Rose.

  Rose’s stomach churned even though this was already what she’d known.

  The detective stood. Interview over.

  Back home in her bed in Barcelona, Rose fell into a restless sleep full of nightmares about the Sultan feasting on the bodies of young girls.

  A few times she woke in the night to find Eva or Gia above her or holding her hand, reassuring her that she was safe.

  She slept late the next day. When she woke, the sun was bright, filling her room with golden light.

  She pulled the covers back over her head and fell back asleep. The next time she opened her eyes, the shadows had grown long.

  “Rose?” It was Gia.

  Squinting, she made out Gia in a chair by the bed.

  “Mr. Rocco came by.”

  Rose closed her eyes. Even hearing his name made her want to weep.

  “He brought this. He said he wanted you to have it. He said that Mrs. Rocco wanted you to have it too.”

  At those words, Rose’s eyes flew open. The only thing she figured Mrs. Rocco wanted her to have was a fork to the eye. Or a knife to the heart. One or the other.

  Gia was holding a small black velvet box.

  Rose sat up and took the box with trembling fingers. She was terrified to open it. She already knew what was inside. She thrust it back at Gia.

  “I can’t.”

  Gia nodded and took the box. She opened it and held it before Rose.

  Timothy’s gold necklace lay nestled in the black velvet. It was the Italian cornetto and hand. He had told Rose once he would only take it off when he was dead.

  She choked on a sob.

  Gia lifted the necklace out gingerly.

  “Hold your hair up,” Gia said.

  Rose looked at her with wide eyes.

  “They didn’t give it to you so it would sit in a drawer somewhere, Rose,” Gia said in a firm voice. “They gave it to you to wear. You can only wear these if they are given as gifts. This is a great honor. This is the greatest gift his parents could have given you. Now lift up your hair.”

  Rose did as she was asked and Gia fastened the necklace on her.

  The cool metal slipped beneath the fabric of her nightgown and nestled between her breasts, and Rose felt a strange sense of calm.

  “Now, drink this,” Gia said and handed her a glass.

  She sat up, even though it seemed to take supreme effort and left her out of breath. Then Gia handed her the glass. It took a while, but she choked it down, surprised at how thirsty she was. She set the glass on her nightstand when it was empty and closed her eyes.

  “Are you planning on getting out of bed any time soon?” Gia asked.

  Rose shook her head.

  Gia didn’t respond.

  Rose looked over at her. Gia set another glass on the nightstand. This one was full like the first one.

  “Drink this in the next two hours.”

  Then she stood and left, closing the door behind her.

  Rose sank back down into the covers in relief.

  The next time she woke it was dark. She was thirsty. She reached for the glass and drank its contents. She wasn’t sure what was in it. It tasted a little like grass and herbs. She didn’t care what it was as long as it allowed her to stay in bed. As soon as she thought this she realized she had to get up to use the bathroom. Damn.

  But then she was quickly back in her bed, pulling the covers over her head.

  However, now she was wide awake. In the dark, she could still see the Sultan’s face, his sharp teeth dripping flesh and blood. This time he was eating Timothy’s body. She scrunched up her face to rid herself of the image. But every time she tried to lie down and close her eyes, it came back.

  She got out of bed and rummaged around in a drawer for a pack of cigarettes that had been stored there for Timothy. She extracted one and lit it, standing in the window where she could see the Gothic Cathedral like she and Timothy had done so many times.

  Although many of their friends preferred to vape, she and Timothy had always preferred getting nicotine the old-fashioned way, finding it more romantic.

  Once she had said this to Gia, who had scoffed, saying lung cancer wasn’t very romantic, was it?

  But Rose figured she’d quit by the time she was twenty-five.

  She didn’t know why she’d decided on that number, but she had.

  Until then, she’d smoke when she wanted.

  And right now, she wanted.

  What she wanted was to feel anything besides the pain threatening to overwhelm her.

  She sat and stared at the Gothic Cathedral spires for what felt like hours until the faintest pink of dawn coated the white spires and she yawned. As she crawled back into bed, grateful to finally be sleepy again, she couldn’t have said what she’d been thinking about for all those hours. Nothing and everything.

  Thirty-Two

  Rose

  Rose had lost track of the hours and days.

  Deep inside, she knew she was a coward. It was the second time that she’d hid from the world in her to bed. What kind of person would crawl into bed instead of dealing with their emotions? And here she thought she was a killer? She was a scared little girl who couldn’t handle the real world.

  She hated herself. She hated everything.

  At one point, she heard something in the apartment outside her bedroom that sounded like whining and barking.

  Then her door opened.

  Eva and Gia came in laughing.

  Rose sat up, glaring.

  How dare they laugh.

  Her boyfriend was dead. Rose planned to live the rest of her life without laughing ever again.

  When she looked down, she saw three black puppies skidding across the floor, tails wagging, tongues lolling, huge paws clawing for traction on the slippery marble.

  “What the hell?” she said.

  Eva leaned back against the door and crossed her arms. She had a small smile on her face that made Rose even more suspicious.

  Gia was down on the ground. The puppies were all over her, trying to lick her face and crawl into her lap. She was giggling. Despite herself, Rose began to smile but then quickly frowned again.

  What the fuck?

  Gia picked up one of the black puppies with a white patch around its eye. “I sort of like this one,” she said and looked over her shoulder at Eva.

  Eva nodded.

  “Would someone like to tell me what’s going on?”

  “We’re each adopting a puppy today.”

  Rose raised an eyebrow. “You might be. I’m not.”

  Her voice was haughty.

  “Do you remember that one time when I took Django to Madrid?”

  “Yeah? What about it?”

  “Well, I took him there to spend time with his girlfriend.”

  Rose frowned and sat up straighter.

  “What girlfriend?”

  “It’s sort of a long story but—”

  Eva interrupted. “These puppies are his grandkids.”

  “We were going to surprise you with one on your birthday, but they weren’t quite ready to leave their mother until this week.”

  “I told you I don’t want a dog.” Rose immediately felt guilty for the nasty tone and then decided she didn’t care.

  Eva and Gia exchanged a look.

  Gia stood up and shrugged. “Fine. But they are all living here for a while, so get used to having them around.”

  And then the two women and the puppies were gone.

  Rose was pissed.

  At first, she yanked the covers over her head. “What the fuck? What the fuck? They think they can just give me a dog, and I’ll forget about Django?” And Timothy?

  “That’s bullshit! I don’t want another dog. It’ll just die and fuck me up again. Fuck that shit.”

  Angrily, she kicked the covers off her again.

  “Fucking stupid dogs. I’m going to move out. They can stay here with those stupid dogs.”

  She started to get up out of bed but then lay back down and started to punch the pillows until she was exhausted. It was only when she was done and curled up in a ball that she realized her face was wet with tears.

  Thirty-Three

  Rose

  The small whimper woke her.

  Blinking in the dark, Rose shook her head.

  What was that noise?

  It was coming from the side of her bed.

  A broad beam of moonlight coming through the windows illuminated a large stretch of the room between her bed and the door. Her door was open a few feet. That was odd. She froze, on alert.

  Then she heard the sound again.

  Leaning over, she saw what it was.

  One of the puppies had made its way into her room.

  It put its paws up on the side of her bed and looked up at her, making a small moaning sound.

  When it saw her face peering down, it wagged its tail, making its entire body wriggle.

  “Go away,” Rose said grumpily.

  It gave a small, happy yip.

  She pulled her head back and put her extra pillow over her face.

  The dog yipped again excitedly.

  Now that the puppy had seen her, all bets were off.

  Irritated, she leaned over again.

  The dog was losing its mind with excitement at seeing her.

  She sighed and leaned over and carefully picked the dog up by its midsection, lifting it into the bed with her. The dog immediately began to play, burying it’s face in the covers and giving small excited barks.

  “Go to bed,” Rose said and rolled over.

  Then, as if it knew what she was saying, the dog settled in against her back, its small nose pressed up against her neck and its paws pushing against her shoulder blades. Rose was afraid to move.

  Then, as she lay there, she heard the puppy begin to snore.

  Soon, she too fell into a deep sleep, the first time she’d slept that soundly since Timothy had disappeared.

  Thirty-Four

  Rose

  Dylan gave a low, guttural growl.

  Rose, who was sitting on the grass with her arms looped around her knees in front of Timothy’s grave stone, lifted her head. The sun was setting, and the sky had turned purple since she last looked up. She squinted to see what Dylan had spotted.

  It was a family walking more than a hundred meters away. A man held a small child’s hand, and a woman carried a bunch of flowers. Rose examined them for a moment and then uttered a one-word command.

  Dylan settled back down, putting his massive black head on his paws. He’d done his job. He’d alerted her to company. He closed his eyes to slits.

  They didn’t allow dogs in the cemetery, but Rose didn’t give a fuck.

  Her dog was a part of her now.

  It had only been six months since he’d been in her life, but she couldn’t imagine life without him.

  She just didn’t go places that didn’t let him in.

  Gia had arranged for Dylan to be declared a companion dog, citing Rose’s recent trauma, which meant he could accompany Rose on airplanes and trains or any other way she saw fit to travel.

  And she was doing a lot of traveling lately.

  Shaniqua had opened the doors of the modeling world for her.

  Rose was tall and thin, if not a bit too muscular for the typical magazine model. But her exotic looks—creamy café au lait colored skin, black eyes, and sharp features—were highly sought after.

  Rose found modeling boring yet somewhat hard work, but signed on because it gave her the perfect cover for her main objective in life: hunting down and killing the Sultan.

  She only accepted jobs in locations where there had been some rumblings of girls gone missing or rumors of strange religious ceremonies.

  She was leaving for her first assignment out of country in the morning, which was why she was saying goodbye to Timothy tonight. She’d already stopped by to say goodbye to Gia and Nico.

  As she immersed herself in memories, Rose realized she was losing Nico to Alzheimer’s was the same day that Timothy had come into her life to save her from the dread that had overtaken her very soul.

  Rose was spooning orange marmalade onto a slice of toasted baguette when Nico shuffled into the room in his robe and slippers. Django was at her feet, whining. The big dark brown lab and Pitbull mix was waiting for some crumbs to drop. She slid a piece of cheese she had sliced off the counter and let it drop to the floor as if by accident.

  He wolfed it down immediately. She smiled.

  She was trying to shake off the remnants of her recurring nightmare: no matter how the dream began, it always ended with her in the water in San Diego watching the boat go up in flames. But in her nightmares her dad and Gia were always the ones on the boat.

  “Rose! What a surprise! You’re already here!” Nico said and ran up to where she sat at the kitchen bar, arms open to hug her.

  She hid her dismay and looked over his shoulder at Gia who had walked into the kitchen behind him.

  Gia’s eyes met hers, and Rose felt something hard and sickly settle into the pit of her stomach.

  She pulled back from the hug. “Daddy,” she said with a smile. “Remember, I got here last night?”

  Nico blinked, his smile fading for an instant before returning. He laughed. “Yes. I was just teasing.”

  But Rose didn’t miss the look he gave Gia.

  Gia reached for the coffee pot. Rose had woken before them and made a French press pot of coffee that she was now sipping out of a bowl, French style.