{Daisy’s POV}

If I had to rate the kidnapping experience so far, I would give it a solid three out of ten.

Points deducted for the duct tape. And then points added for the location, because the place I had just been dragged into was a literal palace.

The massive front doors shut behind us with a deep thud that echoed through the enormous entrance hall, and I stood there for a moment, blinking like someone who had accidentally walked into the wrong movie set.

Marble floors…

Tall ceilings…

A chandelier the size of a small car…

I looked down at my taped wrists again. Then back at the chandelier. Then back at my wrists. With the surrounding I was seeing, I felt like I deserved at least handcuffs.

Meanwhile, I felt out of place— like they could have kidnapped someone more… elegant.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “This is confusing.”

The bald-headed kidnapper shoved me forward once again.

“Move.”

I stumbled a few steps across the marble floor, my sneakers squeaking embarrassingly loud in the silence.

Great.

Even the floors were judging me.

The inside of the mansion was just as ridiculous as the outside. Tall columns lined the hallway and massive paintings hung on the walls, the kind that looked like they belonged in museums where people whispered respectfully and pretended to understand abstract art.

Security cameras were mounted in the corners and men in dark suits stood quietly along the walls like very expensive statues.

All of them looked at me. Not casually or curiously. It was more like the way people look at something that is either dangerous or extremely stupid.

Which, in my defense, I was currently none. I think.

I turned my head slightly toward the bald-headed guy walking beside me.

“So,” I started. He didn’t react.

“Just to clarify,” I continued, “are we going to talk about the kidnapping situation and the role I’m playing here?” I asked.

No answer.

Tough crowd.

We kept walking.

The hallway stretched on forever, the polished marble reflecting the overhead lights so brightly I could practically see my reflection in it.

Which was unfortunate, because my reflection currently looked like a hostage in oversized sweatpants.

My life had really taken a weird turn.

Up ahead, two men in rugged street outfits were standing near a weird-looking male statue, speaking quietly. As we approached, their conversation drifted toward my ears.

“… so DeLuca is not going to take things lightly.”

The second man nodded.

“He shouldn’t! This shit has gone on for too long.”

My ears perked up.

Ah. DeLuca, the mysterious name from the van.

I slowed slightly, trying to hear more but the bald-headed kidnapper grabbed my arm again and pulled me forward.

“Keep moving.”

“You’re being unnecessarily rude, you know,” I muttered and then we paced and stopped in front of a pair of enormous double doors.

Dark wood, carved panels; the kind of doors that looked like they led into rooms where extremely serious people made extremely serious decisions.

One of the men near the door glanced at my wrists, then at my kidnappers.

He frowned.

“Is that…?”

“Just open the door,” the bald-headed guy said quickly and the man pushed the doors open.

With that, I was escorted inside and I immediately hated every instance that had led me to this moment.

The room was enormous and it was not normal-conference-room enormous. It was more like secret-billionaire-war-council enormous. I’m not exxagerating. And for the first time since this crazy night started, I felt a tangible streak of fear.

All this setting was too puissant not to have dire implications… but that was not all.

A long black table stretched across the center of the room and men in expensive suits sat around it, their attention turning toward me the moment I entered.

There were at least ten of them, maybe more, and every single one of them looked like they could ruin someone’s life before breakfast. Meanwhile, there were more crooks on the side with scars and every other aggressive crook-related aesthetic.

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