The basement air hung heavy and cold around Camille as she fought to keep her breathing steady. Her wrists burned against the rope that bound her to the metal chair. Four hours had passed since Rose had taken her from their former location to this place, four hours of her sister's twisted games.

Rose circled her now, bare feet silent on the concrete floor. The room was lit only by the harsh blue glow of laptop screens showing footage of the Grand Plaza Hotel bombing ...