I think about RJ.
I picture him at the compound, realizing I'm gone.
Finding my bag. Finding the blood.
I imagine the look on his face—the fear, the rage, the determination.
He'll come for me. I know he will. Nothing will stop him.
Hold on,I tell myself.Hold on for the baby. Hold on for him. Just a little longer.
I think about my father.
About what Solveig said—that she wants him to watch.
That she wants his face to be the last thing I see.
Does he know yet? Is he on his way?
I think about my mother, and my heart clenches.
If I die here, she'll lose her daughter.
Her grandbaby. Everything.
No. I can't think like that. I won't give up.
A guard's radio crackles, shattering the silence.
"Multiple vehicles approaching from the south. Trucks and motorcycles. Looks like a full assault force."
My heart leaps. They're here. They found me.
Solveig turns from the window, her face lighting up with a terrible joy.
Not fear, not surprise—joy.
Like this is exactly what she wanted.
Like the assault force approaching isn't a threat but a gift.
"Perfect," she breathes. "They're here. Right on schedule."
She crosses the room to stand behind me, her movements fluid and unhurried.
I feel the cold press of the knife against my throat.
Not cutting. Not yet.
Just waiting. Just reminding me who has the power here.
"Get ready," she tells her men. "Remember—I want the president alive. Kill the rest. Every single one of them."
The guards check their weapons, moving into position with practiced efficiency.
Two of them take cover near the windows.
The other two flank the main entrance, their rifles raised and ready.
