"You need to rest." Cade guides me back toward the chair. "We'll bring him home. Trust us."
Trust.
I've spent six weeks learning that trust can be betrayed. That the people supposed to protect you can sell you out for money. That safety is an illusion and security is a lie.
But Deck trusted these men with his life. He built something with them from the wreckage of his past. If he trusted them, I can too.
"Bring him back to me." I meet Cade's eyes. "Please."
"We will." No hesitation. No doubt. "That's what family does."
Family.
I sink into the chair and watch Deck's team prepare to rescue the man I love. They move with purpose, with coordination, with the easy rhythm of people who've done this a hundred times before.
And somewhere on a mountainside, Deck is waiting for them.
Waiting for me.
Hold on, I think. Just hold on.
I'm coming.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DECK
The zip ties cut into my wrists as I work at them, but I don't stop.
My shoulder is on fire. The bullet went clean through—I can feel the exit wound seeping blood down my back—but that's the only good news. Clean through means no fragments to dig out later. It also means I'm losing blood faster than I can afford.
The contractor left me propped against a boulder while he coordinates with his team. I can hear him twenty yards away, speaking into his radio in clipped professional tones.
"Target Two still unaccounted for. Expanding search grid. Request additional personnel on the fire roads."
They haven't found her.
The relief is so intense it nearly blacks me out. Or maybe that's the blood loss. Hard to tell at this point.
I twist my wrists again, feeling the plastic dig deeper. The zip ties are standard issue, not the reinforced kind. Sloppy. These contractors are good, but they're not perfect. They searched me for weapons but missed the radio clipped to the back of mybelt. They secured my hands in front instead of behind. Small mistakes that add up.
Small mistakes I intend to exploit.
The eastern sky is lightening. Dawn coming. They'll want to move me soon, before full daylight makes extraction risky. That gives me maybe thirty minutes to get free and disappear into the terrain I know better than my own name.
Or die trying.
The contractor finishes his radio call and walks back toward me. Mid-thirties, military bearing, cold eyes. Former special forces, probably. The kind of man who does this work because he's good at it and the money is better than government pay.
"Your girlfriend's proving hard to find." He crouches in front of me, just out of reach. "She's got skills. Someone trained her."
I don't respond.
"Here's how this works. You tell me where she's heading, and I make your death quick. You stay quiet, and I let my team have some fun first." He tilts his head. "The Castellanos don't care what condition you're in when we deliver you. Just that you're breathing."
"Go fuck yourself."
The blow catches me across the face, snapping my head to the side. Stars explode behind my eyes. I taste copper.
