Alive.
Fighting.
I know it was her.
Close enough that if we’d moved faster—if I’d trusted instinct instead of intel—I might’ve seen her. Heard her. Pulled her out.
River joined me. “You didn’t fail.”
“I don’t measure failure by intention,” I replied. “Only results.”
He studied my face carefully. “This just confirmed what you already believed.”
I nodded once. “She’s alive.”
And someone was afraid of us finding her.
That made Lena more dangerous than any weapon Hydra—or The Ascendancy—had ever built.
I turned back to the truck one last time.
A single object lay half-hidden beneath the blanket.
I reached for it.
A strip of fabric—dark blue, torn clean at one edge. Not prison-issued. Personal.
I wrapped it around my fist slowly.
“She left this on purpose,” I said.
River’s brow creased. “You sure?”
I looked at the torn strap, the broken restraint, the scratches that angled toward the rear door.
“She was measuring time,” I said. “Strength. Distance.”
I straightened, resolve settling into my bones like steel.
“She’s planning her escape.”
And the men who thought moving her would protect them?
They had just shortened their own lives.
I keyed my comm. “Delta Five, Golden Team—update your maps. Expand the grid. I want every airstrip, private landing zone, and convoy route within eight hundred miles.”
Cyclone exhaled sharply. “That’s a lot of ground.”
“So is the world,” I answered. “And she’s somewhere on it.”
I closed my eyes for half a second—just long enough to picture her running.
Hold on, Lena.
I missed you this time.
I won’t miss you again.
