Hell, she might be dead for all Opal knew, and Cipher had used a daughter’s love to gain her fucking compliance.
The probability of his manipulation carved through her chest like a dull blade, slow and agonizing, leaving nothing but raw hurt behind.
Focus.
She forced herself to think past the pain and fear clawing at her throat like a living beast. Panic was a luxury she couldn’t afford, and self-pity would get her killed.
First, she needed a weapon. Anything she could use to fight back and shift the odds even a fraction in her favor.
There was nothing. No loose nail jutting from the walls or broken furniture she could snap and make into a makeshift shiv. Just her against the man the world was hunting.
Her hands flexed against the cuffs. Too bad they weren’t zip ties. Those she could escape. Slowly, she tested the plastic strapped around her forearms. Cipher had dotted all the I’s and crossed the T’s by making damn sure she wasn’t getting free.
A small noise echoed from some other part of the house—a creak, faint but distinct, like weight shifting on the old floorboards.
Cipher’s head snapped toward the door, body taught with sudden alertness. He flicked off the light, plunging her into near-total darkness that pressed against her like a physical weight.
She strained to hear the sound of him leaving the room, and sure enough, she picked up the rustle of his movements as he slipped out. Then came a sharp metallic click of him locking her in.
Opal’s pulse hammered in her ears, making her head pound with it. This was her chance.
Maybe her only one.
A thin band of pale light streamed through the blinds, but she didn’t need light for what she was about to do. This wasmuscle memory, instinct and years of training condensed into a single moment.
Leaning forward, she jerked her arms in a sharp move to break the plastic ties. The motion made the handcuffs cut into her wrists, but she tried again and again until the plastic of one gave way.
She threw herself into breaking the other. It took three more tries, but she snapped that one too.
She worked her bound hands upward, fingers skimming the tiny, useless back pocket of the trousers she’d borrowed from Alyssa. She’d never understood what those pockets were for. Women didn’t carry wallets, and the small slit couldn’t fit a phone.
The fabric was tight and unforgiving, but Opal shimmied and strained until her fingertips brushed a sliver of warm metal.
The bobby pin Smith taught her to always carry, just in case.
Relief flooded through her so fast and fierce it dizzied her, and her vision swam for a heartbeat before she dragged in a steadying breath.
Always be prepared, Smith had told her, and handed her that first bobby pin years ago and trained her to pick locks with it. He’d drilled into her that it wasn’t just a skill, it was the difference between walking out alive and being found in pieces.
She already had one tip of the pin bent into a small hook. When she worked it into the lock, twisting her hands at an angle that made them ache, adrenaline screamed through her system. She tamped it down, pulling in calming breaths through her nose, part of her mind out there with Cipher and what was going on and the other part in the small inner workings of the lock.
She felt for the catch point, the sweet spot that would—
The lock gave with a softpopthat sounded like a gunshot to her. She shot a glance at the closed door, her head spinning—notonly from the blow that leveled her but from the crushing weight of what was coming next.
The tracker on her boot was still active, broadcasting her location to whoever cared to look.
That person would be Sinner. Unless Cipher got to him first.
No.She would not let that thought penetrate her brain.
Sinner would come for her because that was who he was—loyal and protective.
But Cipher wouldn’t let him just walk through that door and rescue her. Which meant she had to keep him from getting himself killed.
She couldn’t let Cipher use her as bait to hurt Sinner. She could survive most things—the bad childhood, a lonely existence and training that made her a tool for the FBI.
But she wouldn’t survive it if she was the reason Sinner got killed.
