Chapter 77

The evening streets buzzed with traffic when a screeching brake pierced the sky.

Susan Thompson turned toward the commotion, finding a crowd gathered at the intersection. She meant to walk away until a familiar face froze her in place.

Louis Lynch!

His bloodied features twisted grotesquely in the sunset. The missing mask revealed his contorted expression. Though his body lay mangled, that recognizable face remained intact—as if fate demanded Susan recognize him.

"They say the black car chased him down three times..."

The bystanders' whispers crawled into Susan's ears. Her nails dug crescent moons into her palms.

The monster who'd pushed little Daniel off the cliff had finally faced justice.

Then ice flooded her veins.

This wasn't an accident.

This was murder.

Nicole Capra was silencing witnesses!

Shivering, Susan returned to Willow Lane Apartments. Before she could process the horror, her front door shuddered under violent blows.

"Who's there?"

Her trembling fingers fumbled with a new phone. She'd barely dialed 9-1-1 when the lock shattered.

Four black-suited brutes stormed in.

Vincent King's men!

Memories of severed fingers surged through her. Susan barricaded herself in the bedroom, the emergency call connecting just as the door exploded inward.

"Help! Somebo—"

Her phone shattered against the floor. A burlap sack swallowed her whole, that familiar suffocation returning.

The trunk's jostling churned her stomach. When the sack ripped open, Vincent's livid face loomed under blinding lights.

"How dare you, Susan!"

His grip crushed her windpipe, stars bursting behind her eyelids.

"Hiring hitmen to kill Candy? You've got a death wish?"

Gasping, Susan shook her head. Oxygen deprivation blurred her vision.

"Not me... Candy staged it..."

"Lies!" Vincent released her, hurling papers at her face.

Bank transfers.

Recipient: Lucas Lynch.

Sender: Her account.

Susan's pupils contracted.

That account—the one she'd given the kidnappers!

Nicole had planned everything. The leftover ransom became Susan's death sentence.

"Any last words?" Vincent's voice could freeze hell.

The documents crumpled in Susan's white-knuckled grip.

She'd fallen into a meticulously crafted trap.