“Eyes?”
“Hazel brown. Didn’t blink much.”
Sinner’s lungs burned as he dragged air through them. No. It couldn’t be—
“Clothing?”
“Gray zip-front hoodie. Plain. Canvas work jacket over it—dark green or brown. Worn but clean. Jeans. Brown leather work boots. Scuffed toes.”
“Hands?”
“Nails trimmed. No rings. No watch.”
“No ink?” Con asked.
“None visible.”
“Accent?”
“Neutral. No regional markers.”
Sinner dragged a hand down his face. For a long beat, Con didn’t speak. But Sinner knew what his CO was thinking, because he was thinking it too.
Opal had managed to escape Cipher.
“Office was about twelve feet by fifteen. Concrete floor. No debris. Four overhead fluorescent panels. Light switch on the right.”
What she said next had the blood flash-freezing in his veins.
“As soon as I stepped into the office, we exchanged a few words about the project. Then he reached for the door lock.”
Sinner felt a deadly calm spread through his chest. He knew what that sensation meant—he was about to blow.
“I told him we could talk without the door locked. I had two seconds to scan the room again before he cut the lights and grabbed me.”
Sinner’s head snapped up. She seemed to look through him.
“There was only one exit.”
His hand lifted on its own accord, but he didn’t touch her.
“So how did you escape?” Con pressed on.
“I carry a knife strapped to my thigh. I pulled it.” She spread her blood-stained fingers, twisting her hand to study them.
Opal was trained to recall every single detail, to execute orders to the letter. But she didn’t know how to feel.
As if proving his point, her next words were calm and toneless. “I stabbed him in the leg, broke his hold on me and ran.”
Con wore that expression that Sinner had seen a hundred times—he was fitting together all the pieces of the puzzle and calculating their next move. “You did the right thing.”
Opal’s throat worked in a hard swallow, the delicate cords tightening as if she battled the need to justify her actions. “I didn’t have any recourse. He was locking the door.”
“I heard you.” Con’s tone turned firm. “You defended yourself. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re in danger.”
Sinner gripped the counter again, needing the resistance under his palm or he was going to tear the place apart and hunt down the bastard who’d put her in that position.
He lifted his gaze to the screen. He and Con traded a look—brief but loaded.
