“You will,” he says smoothly. “Because I’ve got something you want. And I’m offering a chance to resolve this like gentlemen.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Is that what you think this is? A negotiation?”
“No weapons. Just you and me. A conversation. Neutral ground.”
“What’s the address?”
He rattles off a location. It’s the same place we tracked by drone. He doesn’t know we’re already aware of where he is.
“Bring anyone else, and she dies,” he adds.
I’m about to respond when my phone buzzes again with an incoming file. I switch screens, and the video auto-plays.
Astrid.
She’s tied to a chair in what looks like an abandoned office. Her head is up but her eyes are wild, scanning the room like a trapped animal. She’s breathing hard. My heart twists.
“She’s alive—for now,” Spalding says. “But I can’t make any promises if you play dirty.”
“Don’t touch her,” I growl. “If you so much as look at her wrong, I will make sure you leave this world in pieces.”
He chuckles. “So you’re coming, then?”
I don’t answer. I hang up. I stare at the phone for a beat longer than I should.
She’s scared. But she’s fighting. I saw it in her eyes.
“She’s at the office park,” I tell the others as I return. “Spalding doesn’t know we’ve found it.”
Lev scoffs. “What’s the play?”
“He’s trying to lure me into a trap.”
“And you’re going?” Elena asks, concern etched across her face.
“I’m going,” I say. “But not alone.”
They all look at me.
“He wants to spring a trap. So let’s spring one of our own.”
CHAPTER 38
ASTRID
Isiting in the same damn chair I started in, slumped over, tied tighter this time, body aching and brain spiraling. No one’s come for me.
But that doesn’t mean they’re not looking.
I close my eyes and breathe slowly through my nose, trying to focus. Tatiana’s smug face flashes behind my eyelids. The way she looked at me in the van, like she’d already won. Like I was already finished. I don’t know what they’re planning, but I do know they wouldn’t keep me alive just for fun.
I hear heavy footsteps getting close. They stop just outside my door.
The door creaks open and two guards step in. One of them looks like he chews gravel for breakfast. The other has a shaved head and exudes the word dangerous.
Neither says a word.
Gravel Guy grabs the back of my chair and tilts it while Shaved Head pulls out a switchblade and saws through the tiesanchoring me to the wooden frame. I try not to react, but my muscles flinch at the sudden freedom. It’s short-lived. They yank my arms back and snap metal cuffs around my wrists. Cold and tight.
