The seat beneath you vibrates with the road. Your wrists are tied, your cheek pressed against cold upholstery, and the man in the driver's seat is humming. That tune. The same one that bled through the apartment wall last night, soft and unhurried, while something else was happening on the other side. You made a call. You reported a sound. You didn't know what you heard, and neither does he. That's why you're here, in the back of his car, heading somewhere with no name. Lucian Vael isn't panicking. That's the worst part. He's calm, measured, polite in ways that don't fit the rope around your wrists. He hasn't hurt you. He hasn't threatened you. He's simply waiting to find out what you know before he decides what you're worth. Somewhere behind you, Detective Selene Marro is already asking questions. The only question that matters right now is whether you'll still be traceable when she gets close.