Elsa Wynn carefully placed a water glass into seventy-four-year-old Ruth Bell’s trembling hand

The subterranean holding cells of the Kincaid estate were a labyrinth of cold concrete, heavy steel doors, and shadows. The air was damp and smelled heavily of earth and iron, a stark contrast to the luxurious ivory-paneled walls above. Tristan descended the concrete stairs, his polished leather shoes echoing methodically in the grim silence. Elsa walked a half-step behind him, her black maid dress blending into the darkness.

Marcus stood outside a heavy iron door, arms crossed over his trench coat.

"Is she broken, Marcus?" Tristan asked quietly.

"She’s terrified, Boss, but she’s clinging to her leverage," Marcus replied, unlocking the heavy deadbolts with a loud, metallic clank.

Tristan pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the cell, motioning for Elsa to stay near the entrance.

The room was lit by a single, harsh fluorescent bulb. Felicity was huddled in the corner on a crude metal cot. Her sculpted emerald silk gown was completely ruined, stained with dirt and torn at the seams. Her diamond earrings were gone. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face streaked with ruined makeup and sheer terror.

When she saw Tristan, she scrambled off the cot, falling to her knees on the cold concrete.

"Tristan! Please!" Felicity sobbed hysterically, crawling toward him. "I can explain everything! I just wanted a family! I wanted you!"

"Do you believe your twisted desires excuse the kidnapping of my daughter?" Tristan asked, standing perfectly still, an impenetrable monolith of dark wool and quiet fury.

"She is safe!" Felicity shrieked, grasping at the hem of his tailored trousers. "I placed her with a family! Good people! They don't know who she is! But I am the only one who knows their names! If you kill me, you will never find her!"

"Did you think I would negotiate with a woman kneeling on my concrete floor?" Tristan inquired, stepping back to avoid her touch as if she were diseased.

"You have no choice!" Felicity screamed, desperation making her bold. "She is six years old, Tristan! She doesn't know you! I can bring her back to you, but you have to let me go! You have to give me safe passage out of the country!"

Tristan stared at her in complete silence for a long moment. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver folding knife. He flicked the blade open with a terrifying, metallic snick.

Felicity gasped, scrambling backward until her spine hit the concrete wall. "No! Tristan, please! I'm telling the truth!"

"Do you think pain is the only way I extract information?" Tristan asked softly. He didn't move toward her. He looked over his shoulder at Marcus.

"Will you bring the ledger from her private safe, Marcus?" Tristan commanded.

Marcus stepped into the room, holding a small, leather-bound book. He tossed it onto the metal cot.

Felicity’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated horror.

"Did you believe my men were incapable of cracking a simple wall safe while you were screaming in my dining room?" Tristan asked, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. "Did you think I would not track the monthly payments you made to a 'good family' to keep them quiet?"

Felicity clamped her hands over her mouth, realizing her only leverage had just been entirely dismantled.

"Are you going to tell me exactly which house in the northern suburbs belongs to this family, or shall I have Marcus begin breaking your fingers until you point it out on a map?" Tristan asked, tracing the edge of the silver blade with his thumb.

"It's the red brick house on Elm Street!" Felicity sobbed, completely broken, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please! Just let me live!"

"Do you truly believe you will find mercy among the wolves you fed?" Tristan asked, turning his back on her completely.

He walked out of the cell, leaving the weeping woman in the dark. He looked at Marcus. "Will you ensure she is transported to the council holding facility immediately? Shall we let the commission deal with the woman who nearly brought down a syndicate over a lie?"

"With pleasure, Boss," Marcus growled.