Owen opened his mouth to say Lucian’s name.

A gun pressed against the back of his head.

Knox had appeared behind him without a sound.

He held out his free hand and crooked his fingers.

The message was clear.

Be quiet. Give me the phone.

With that murderous face beside him, Owen didn’t dare resist.

He handed it over stiffly.

Two men immediately covered his mouth and dragged him away.

He had served his purpose.

Knox adjusted his voice.

When he spoke, he sounded exactly like Owen.

No ordinary man became one of Lucian’s trusted people.

“The client’s identity is sensitive. He wants to discuss it in person. He’s offering over a hundred million dollars.”

K’s reply was cold.

“Tell him the price doesn’t change the rules. The organization checks every client before we do business. If he won’t cooperate, there’s nothing to discuss.”

The organization.

I seized on the word.

They had turned the trade in human organs into an industry.

And they were careful.

Owen was probably one of the smallest pieces in it.

Lucian touched his earpiece.

Whatever he heard made his expression darken.

He turned and strode out.

I hurried after him.

Behind us, K’s voice suddenly sharpened with panic.

“Someone’s tracing my phone. Owen, you fucking idiot!”

I watched Lucian’s back.

An emotion I couldn’t name filled me.

Since my death, apart from my poor mother, he was the only person who had kept looking.

The only one with the power and ability to work his way toward the truth.

There were no stars in the dark sky ahead.

Yet I seemed to see those rose-colored fireworks again.

Whatever he felt about me, one thing had become clear.

He was my only hope of being heard.

He drove himself.

I already knew how good he was behind the wheel. Reckless and precise at once, as skilled as a professional racer.

His men struggled to keep up.

Felix’s voice came through the earpiece.

“I’ve sent everyone nearby to cover the intersections. They’re looking for a man with a hoarse voice. Unless the bastard grows wings, he isn’t getting away.”

Lucian said nothing.

Streetlights swept over him. Light caught his mouth while his eyes remained in shadow.

A calm surface above something bottomless.

He drove into a residential development.

Ahead, bollards blocked the pedestrian paths. The car couldn’t go farther.

He got out and ran toward the building marked on Felix’s location.

The development was crowded, mostly ordinary families with modest incomes. Too many people, too many strangers coming and going.

K had hidden himself among them.

A clever place to disappear.

Building Eleven. Seventh floor. Apartment 704.

Felix’s men had already broken down the door.

K was gone.

His belongings weren’t.

“Mr. Sinclair told us not to touch anything until you arrived, sir.”

“Search it.”

Miles hurried in a few steps behind him, still breathless, and went straight to work.

Lucian approached the computer desk.

More than a dozen monitors displayed scrambled characters.

Before fleeing, K had used his last moments to destroy the data.

I prayed Felix’s people outside would catch him.

Lucian surveyed the room.

His gaze stopped on the bookshelves.

After several seconds, he approached and moved a few unevenly placed hardcovers.

The shelves split apart.

A concealed passage opened behind them.

My hope sank.

Of course K had escaped that way.

Several men went inside and returned minutes later.

“Part of it’s been blown in. Debris is blocking the passage. Clearing it will take time.”

I closed my eyes.

By then, he would be gone.

We had come so close.

One more step.

Meanwhile, Miles noticed something odd about the wallpaper.

He peeled back a corner.

Then recoiled.

His face went white.

“Sir…”

His voice shook.

So did the rest of him.

I stared.

What could frighten Miles like that?

What was behind the wallpaper?

Lucian approached and reached for it.

Miles stopped him.

“Let me.”

Lucian withdrew his hand and stepped back.

Miles drew a breath.

He tore down the covering.

Photographs filled the wall.

More than a dozen young men and women, unclothed on cold operating tables.

Some were awake, staring in terror.

Others had their eyes closed. I couldn’t tell whether they were alive.

A personal file hung beside each picture.

I saw Tessa’s name.

Directly beneath her was mine.

My photograph.

My information.

Only one thing made me different.

I was dressed.

Lying in bed, apparently photographed while asleep.

I understood why almost immediately.

Julian’s idea of preserving my dignity.

He considered me his property. Having me displayed naked would have humiliated him.

I felt sick.

Every photograph was a person.

Another victim.

I stared for a long time, unable to settle the grief and rage inside me.

They had already hurt so many people.