Fear pressed at the edges of my thoughts, cold and insistent, but I kept it where it belonged—acknowledged, not obeyed.
Trigger had taught me that without meaning to.
Survive first.
The door opened without warning.
Two men entered—different from the ones who grabbed me. Older. Quieter. One carried a folder.
The first man spoke. “You comfortable?”
I lifted my chin. “You kidnapped me. Comfort wasn’t part of the deal.”
He smiled thinly. “Still sharp. That’s good.”
The second man set the folder on a small metal table I hadn’t noticed before. Inside were photographs.
Of me.
At the tavern.
Walking with Trigger.
Laughing—God, laughing.
My stomach twisted, but I didn’t look away.
“You’ve become expensive,” the first man said calmly. “Your former fiancé caused us problems. His arrest cost us money. Influence. Time.”
“So you kidnapped me,” I said flatly. “That seems inefficient.”
He chuckled. “You Rangers teach confidence well.”
“I’m not a Ranger.”
“No,” he agreed. “You’re leverage.”
There it was.
I leaned back in the chair, forcing my breathing steady. “You won’t get what you want.”
The man tilted his head. “We already have.”
He gestured to the photos.
“Trigger Jennings is very motivated,” he continued. “Men like him don’t negotiate well.”
“That’s because he doesn’t,” I said quietly.
That earned me a dirty look.
“You think he’ll save you,” the second man said.
“I know he will.”
Silence stretched.
The first man smiled again—but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you’ll be very useful to us.”
