“She’s the last one connected to his failed op in Morocco,” the commanding voice continued. “And the only asset we have that can still unbalance him.”
Failed op.
My chest tightened.
They hurt me because they thought pain softened people.
They didn’t kill me because I was their leverage.
I swallowed hard, muscles trembling—not from fear, but fury.
I wasn’t bait.
I was a variable they no longer fully controlled.
The plane lifted, weight pressing me into the seat. I used the force to test the restraints—just enough to map them.Plastic cuffs reinforced with wire. Cheap. Efficient. Breakable with leverage.
Good.
Very good.
If Ronan Pierce was real—if he was close enough to worry them—then time was no longer on their side.
And neither was I.
As the engines roared and the aircraft climbed into the dark, I centered my breathing and made a promise to the man whose name they’d spoken like a curse.
I’m still alive.
And I won’t let them use me against you.
Somewhere below, the world stretched open.
And somewhere out there, Ronan Pierce was moving closer to the storm they’d created.
They thought keeping me alive made him vulnerable.
They were about to learn—
It madeboth of us dangerous.
5
Lena
The trick wasn’t strength.
It was timing.
Aircraft noise masked everything—conversation, movement, even fear. The engines roared loud enough to swallow a scream, loud enough that death could happen two seats away and no one would look twice.
I waited until the climb leveled out.
Until the turbulence eased and the pressure in my ears dulled.
Until the guards relaxed.
I rolled my shoulders subtly, testing the cuffs again—plastic, wire core. Cheap—like they’d assumed fear would do the rest of the work for them.
