The plane touched down at Harry Reid International Airport with a jolt that rattled Elodie's teeth. She had spent the entire five-hour flight staring out the window, watching the darkness of the country scroll by, waiting for the police to be waiting at the gate.

They were not.

She stepped into the jet bridge. The air was different here. Even through the climate control, she could feel the dryness of the desert. It sucked the moisture right out of her skin.

She navigated the terminal, her head down. The noise was an assault. Slot machines chimed and rang in every corner. Tourists in flip-flops dragged massive suitcases. It was chaotic, tacky, and loud. It was perfect. No one looked twice at a girl in a hoodie here.

She walked to the passenger pickup zone. The heat outside was still oppressive, even at night. It wrapped around her like a heavy blanket.

A vintage red convertible swerved to the curb, blasting Def Leppard.

Elodie blinked. Aunt Inez.

Inez Franco was wearing oversized sunglasses, despite the fact that it was midnight. She waved a manicured hand over the windshield.

Get in, fugitive princess! Inez shouted over the music.

Elodie threw her bag into the back seat and jumped in. The leather was hot against her legs.

Inez hit the gas before Elodie had even buckled her seatbelt. The car lurched forward, merging aggressively into the airport traffic.

You look like hell, Inez said cheerfully. She turned down the music. Does Hazen know you are here?

Elodie shook her head. No. I just needed a break.

Inez scoffed. She tapped the steering wheel with her rings.

You do not run from a billion-dollar merger because you need a break, honey. You run because you are suffocating.

Elodie looked out the window. The Las Vegas Strip was a ribbon of fire in the distance. The Luxor beam cut a hole in the sky.

They passed a massive digital billboard. Elodie's breath caught in her throat.

It was Alden.

His face was three stories high, advertising a keynote speech for the summit. Even in pixels, his eyes seemed to see right through her.

Inez caught Elodie staring in the rearview mirror.

He is in town, you know, Inez said. Her voice lost its joking edge.

Elodie stiffened. I do not care.

Inez hummed. A sound that meant she knew exactly how much Elodie was lying.

He is just Kade's cousin, Elodie said, forcing her voice to be flat.

Right. And I am just a soccer mom, Inez said dryly.

They pulled into a gated community twenty minutes later. Inez's villa was a sprawling stucco beast that looked like it had been decorated by a colorblind artist. The garage door opened to reveal a chaotic mess of canvases and paint fumes.

As Elodie climbed out, tires screeched behind them.

A neon-green sports car whipped into the driveway, missing Inez's bumper by inches.

The driver door flew open. A girl in a dress that was little more than a suggestion of fabric stepped out. She wore combat boots and had hair that looked like she had just rolled out of bed in the most fashionable way possible.

Sofia Franco. Elodie's cousin.

Elodie! Sofia screamed. She tackled Elodie in a hug that knocked the wind out of her.

Sofia smelled of expensive tequila and smoke. She pulled back, gripping Elodie's shoulders.

Did you bring the good purses? Sofia asked, her eyes wide. The Birkins? Tell me you brought the Birkins.

Inez rolled her eyes. Leave her alone, Sofia. She is tired.

Sofia leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Did you run away from the wedding?

Elodie froze. Sofia was wild, but she was not stupid.

Elodie gave a microscopic nod.

Sofia grinned. It was a wolfish, delighted smile.

Finally, Sofia said. Let us get drunk.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the hum of the oversized refrigerator. Elodie sat at the island, wrapping her hands around a mug of herbal tea Inez had forced on her.

Inez leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. She had taken off the sunglasses, revealing eyes that were too sharp, too knowing.

You did not just run from a wedding, Inez said. You ran to something.

Elodie took a sip of the tea. It tasted like sage and dirt.

I do not know what you mean.

Inez reached behind her and slapped a tabloid magazine onto the counter. The headline screamed about the delay in the Jimenez-Clay merger.

Your father called me, Inez said.

Elodie's heart hammered against her ribs. She stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the tile.

I have to go.

Sit down, Inez ordered. Her voice was not loud, but it carried the weight of authority. I did not answer him.

Elodie sank back into the chair. Her hands were shaking again.

Why? Elodie asked.

Because I hate him, Inez said simply. And because I need a favor.

Elodie stared at her aunt. A favor?

Sofia is out of control, Inez said, gesturing toward the living room where Sofia was shouting into her phone. She is mixing with the wrong crowd. Dangerous people. I cannot watch her twenty-four seven.

Inez leaned forward.

You keep Sofia out of jail. You keep her away from the sharks. And I will help you lie to Hazen.

Elodie weighed the options. If she left, Hazen would find her in hours. If she stayed, she had a base of operations to find Joshuah.

What is the lie? Elodie asked.

Hawaii, Inez said. A pre-wedding detox trip. No phones. Total isolation. It buys you a week. Maybe two.

Elodie nodded slowly. It could work.

And Alden? Inez asked softly.

Elodie looked at the dark liquid in her mug. He is not part of this.

Honey, Inez sighed. You look at that man like he is water in a drought. But fine. Have it your way.

Deal, Elodie said.

Suddenly, the kitchen door banged open. Sofia burst in, a whirlwind of energy.

We are going to OMNIA, Sofia announced. Now.

Elodie looked down at her jeans. I am not dressed for a club.

Sofia grabbed her hand, pulling her off the stool.

My closet. Let's go.

The next hour was a blur of fabric and hairspray. Sofia treated Elodie like a Barbie doll. She stripped her out of the safe, boring clothes and forced her into a dress that was terrifying.

It was black, covered in sequins that caught the light like oil on water. It had a plunging neckline and a slit that went up to her thigh.

Elodie looked in the mirror. She didn't recognize herself. The girl in the mirror looked dangerous. She looked like she belonged in Vegas.

She felt a strange sense of armor settling over her. If she looked like this, maybe she wouldn't feel like the scared girl on the balcony.

Sofia clapped her hands. Perfect. Now you look like a Jimenez.

They headed out to the garage. Elodie paused to send one last text on the burner phone, this time to Kade's personal number, hoping it would buy the alibi.

I am in Hawaii. Need space. Do not call.

She turned the phone off and tossed it into her clutch.

Sofia revved the engine of the neon sports car. The sound echoed in the garage like a gunshot.

Welcome to the jungle, cousin, Sofia yelled over the engine.

Las Vegas Boulevard was a parking lot.

Elodie gripped the door handle of Sofia's car. The neon lights of the Strip reflected off the hood, creating a dizzying kaleidoscope of color. The bass from Sofia's stereo was vibrating in Elodie's chest, syncing with her anxious heartbeat.

Tourists crowded the sidewalks, stumbling with yard-long margaritas. It was a sensory overload.

Sofia was dancing in the driver's seat, oblivious to the gridlock.

Suddenly, a convoy of three black Cadillac Escalades swerved from the left lane, cutting them off.

Sofia slammed on the brakes. The seatbelt dug into Elodie's collarbone.

Assholes! Sofia screamed. She laid on the horn. Do you know who I am?

Sofia, stop, Elodie hissed. She looked at the SUVs. They were identical, polished to a mirror shine. They looked heavy. Official. Or criminal.

The convoy came to a halt at a red light right next to them.

The tinted window of the middle SUV rolled down halfway.

Elodie turned her head. She expected to see a celebrity. Or a drunk tourist.

Instead, she saw a man.

He was sitting in the back seat. He wore a black suit, sharp and tailored, with no tie. His collar was unbuttoned, revealing the tan skin of his throat.

He was looking at a tablet, his profile illuminated by the blue light of the screen. He seemed completely detached from the chaos of the Strip. He was an island of stillness in a sea of noise.

Then, he turned his head.

He didn't scan the crowd. He didn't look at Sofia screaming profanities.

His eyes locked directly onto Elodie's.

They were dark. Pitch black. And cold.

Elodie felt a physical jolt, like she had touched a live wire. He looked at her with a clinical, predatory indifference. He wasn't looking at a girl in a sequined dress. He was looking at a variable in an equation.

He didn't smile. He didn't frown. He just observed.

Elodie felt exposed, despite the metal door between them. She felt marked.

Sofia was still yelling.

The light turned green.

The man in the SUV didn't break eye contact until the car began to move. Then, the window rolled up smoothly, erasing him from view.

The convoy sped off, weaving through traffic with a precision that was terrifying.

Elodie let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her skin was prickling.

Who was that? Elodie asked. Her voice shook.

Sofia shrugged, merging back into the lane. Probably some Randall goon. They own this town.

Randall.

The name triggered a memory in Elodie's mind. A file on her father's desk. A connection to the casinos.

She looked at the red taillights disappearing into the distance.

Let's just get to the club, Elodie said. She rubbed her arms, trying to scrub away the feeling of those cold eyes on her skin.